


There's a Human beneath that Armor.

by xTheFool



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Interspecies, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTheFool/pseuds/xTheFool
Summary: Survivor, Hero, Savior.To the galaxy, Commander Shepard was not just a man, but a paragon. A living legend. But after so many trials and tribulations, Shepard lost the biggest part of himself: his humanity. He was pushed past his breaking point. But a transfer to a different command might offer a shot at redemption through friendship, new purpose, and love.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76





	1. A Bad Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan for this series to cover pre-ME1 to ME3. It'll be a long, but I hope you enjoy it.

For as long as he could remember, Shepard had been alone.

No parents, adoptive or otherwise, no family, and until recently, no friends. The orphanage that he used to reside was like most in the underbelly of Earth's megacities: underfunded, understaff, and with too many for the little they had to go around. But for what it was worth, the workers were earnest. Even faced with obvious challenges, for the most part, they really wanted to help. Even as a kid chewing on paper to keep his stomach from growling, Shepard recognized that. Appreciated it too.

But goodwill and good intentions could only go so far.

At the age of eleven, he left the orphanage.  
He's been running game on the streets ever since.  
  
Seven years, he's been working the corner and running jobs. Selling red sand, collecting dues, making sure others showed his gang proper respect. He had always been a fast learner, and crime was no different. He never had to kill anyone, but his hands were far from clean. He knew that, accepted that, and it made the job easier.

Maybe that was why it was so surprising when Frank pushed a Predator pistol into his hand, slapping him on the back. He had been called to their hideout, a few small rooms hidden behind a wall in an old warehouse, complete with graffiti walls, dirty floors, and the faint smell of piss.  
  
"Today's the day you become a man, Johnny."   
  
Shepard looked up, panicked. Frank grinned.

Frank The Boss, as he often called himself, was the leader of the **_Tenth Street Reds_**. Twenty years Shepard's senior, he always announced his presence with the smell of unwashed armpits covered in cheap cologne. It was him who had offered Shepard a way to put food into his belly, and a way to stop letting the streets control him, and control it instead. He knew from the moment he met him that Frank was bad news. But he always thought that somehow, he'd keep above needing to do the worst that his gang did, and save up enough credits to get out ahead of the trouble.

_"What did you think was going to happen," Shepard thought to himself. "Running with murderers..."_

He took the Predator, holding it it away from his body, like it was contagious. He knew better to refuse the gift. If Frank took offense, he didn't show it. Instead, he laughed.

"You were always good with your hands, kid. Smart too. But that ain't gonna cut it. Not anymore. You're an adult now, and that means handling shit like an adult would." He waved his hand. Around them, people seated against the wall or at tables stood and lined up on either side of Shepard, facing forward. "There's been word from our guy on the inside. Apparently the boss for the _**Twilight Streets** _OD'd last night, and his gang is still struggling to find a proper replacement."

Around him, people whooped and hollered. Shepard could only stare, knowing what was about to come next, but hoping, praying that he was wrong.

"They've been a pain in our ass since day one," Frank continued. "Now... Now it's time to pay them back in full!"

Everyone around him roared; Shepard felt his knees grow weak. Somehow, the pistol in his hand felt heavier than before.  
  
"While those idiots fight each other, we'll make our move. Tomorrow, at sunrise, we ride on 'em. We'll bring everyone, and make sure we put down every last one of 'em!"

Whooping, hollering, stomping their feet. The gang went wild. The only one who didn't was Shepard, and Frank noticed. He squinted, raising his hand, quieting the others. He stared at Shepard. Shepard stared at his feet, fighting the nausea that threatened to sweep him off his feet.

Shepard wasn't innocent, not by any means. He had broken up families, sold to those he knew would get hooked and kept reeling them in over and over again. He had beaten on others, some who deserved it, but many who didn't. He lied, cheated, and stolen from others. But he never killed. It was the one line he never crossed, never even edged toward. He knew he wasn't a good guy, but he wasn't a murderer. He wouldn't be. He refused. He looked up, spurred on my courage, opening his mouth to tell Frank just that.  
  
But the look in Frank's eyes shut him down immediately. It wasn't anger or anything close. It was unhinged. Evil. It told him, "I'll gut you like a fish and lay beside you while you bleed - not because I want to, but because I can." In Frank's eyes, Shepard saw his death, and that terrified him more than anything.

"John," Frank said, eerily calm. "You'll be beside me the entire time during the raid. We'll be the first ones in and the last one out. You're okay with that, right?"  
  
  
Shepard didn't answer, hands trembling.  
  
Frank stepped closer, " _Right_?"  
  
Eventually, Shepard nodded. "R-Right..."  
  
Frank smiled, slapping Shepard on his shoulder. "Good." He turned his attention back to the others. "Spread the word to the others, and get your shit ready. I want everyone back here by sundown."  
  
The others nodded and dispersed. Shepard lagged behind, looking first at the gun still in his hands, then at Frank. He thought to fight against what he said, knew that he should, but in the end, he simply left, shoving the gun into his waistband and walking out the room, out the warehouse, and onto the streets.

He hated this.  
Hated that this was the life he lived. Hated that he had stuck around for as long as he did, and that he hadn't figured out someplace else to go. All that he did, he did it because it was necessary. He knew of the consequences and yet, he thought it necessary. To eat, to survive. Raiding a rival gang though? Killing them? It wasn't out of necessity. They had done just fine up until that point. It was greed, born from a sociopath's dreams of grandeur. A sociopath who made it clear that he aspects him to be involved, pulling the trigger alongside the rest of them.  
  
_"Is that so bad?" He thought to himself. "He'll kill you if you don't. It's either you or them."_

He stopped walking and closed his eyes.  
Was this what the rest of his life would be like? Was this all left for him in the world?

Beside him, a kiosk came to life, playing some intro music. He opened his eyes, tired, and looked to it as it started.  
  
"Are you looking to make a difference?" An upbeat, cheery voice spoke. "Do you dream of adventure and heroism, making the galaxy a better place for humanity? Then go to your local recruitment office and join the Alliance today! Here, you can make those dreams a reality!"  
  
The ad ended, showing directions to an office not even ten minutes away. He stared at it. Could that be his answer?  
  
".. like it'd be that easy."  
  
He continued his walk, frowning. There was never an easy solution. Not with him, not in this life.

* * *

The _**Twilight Streets** _base was a seedy motel, skycars parked sporadically in the parking lot, with music blaring from more than one of the rooms. People, both members of the gang and civilians, loitered around with drinks in hand, hanging on the banister and in rooms alike, with a few leaning against some of the cars. Down the street, four vans pulled into place, and people flooded out, all armed with pistols and weapons alike. Frank led them with Shepard right behind, knees weak and his face grim. They trotted down the streets, keeping low and behind the wall. Nearing the entrance to the lot, half of the group broke off and circled around, taking up point on the other side of the wall.  
  
"Alright, boys." Frank spoke into his omni-tool, letting everyone hear him in their earpiece. "We move on my signal."  
  
Of all those there, Frank was the best equipped. It wasn't just the omni-tool, but the assault rifle he carried: a Lancer, equipped with a short-sight scope. He held it close and with care, grinning. He was enjoying this. "And so the show... begins." It's with that final word that he turns the corner, lighting up the lot with metal. Those closest to them, whether a member of the _**Streets**_ or a civilian were gunned down. Someone screamed, people scattered, and the **_Reds_** poured into the lot, following suit.  
  
Shepard was carried in the bodies, gun drawn, but not firing. His hands trembled and his adrenaline flooded his system. He dove for cover behind a car - just in time, because a second after he did, the _**Twilight Streets**_ returned fire. Bodies dropped on both sides, a car off to the side of the lot erupted in an explosion, throwing him off his feet. It was chaos, and it didn't take long for him to lose track of what was happening, so he stayed where he was, hugging the ground as best he could.

"John?! John!! Get your ass out here and fight!"  
  
The voice of Frank was heard clear in his earpiece. He was sure the others heard him too.  
  
He'd die if he stepped out from behind the car. Hell, seeing how a car just exploded, he'd die if he stayed where he was, and that was assuming Frank didn't get to him first. He looked toward the entrance. No cover if he ran for it, but if he kept low and got lucky, he could use the cars and someone wouldn't accidentally blow one up while he was behind it.

It was his only shot. He knew that, so he started to move, scrambling across the ground. Someone saw him, someone he recognized from his own gang, but before he could reach out and grab him, a bullet catches him unaware, sending him crumbling to the ground. Shepard held back his scream, moving faster. Car by car, he moved until eventually, he was beside the entrance. The firefight behind him had died down a bit, but there were still a lot of them. If they stayed focused on each other...  
  
"Come on... Come on!"  
  
He kicked off the ground, sprinting toward the exit. At the same time, a voice screamed into his ear: "STOP JOHN!"  
  
Behind him, someone shot his way. It cuts through his shirt, grazing his arm, but he doesn't stop, ducking behind the wall and taking off down the street. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, pistol in hand, looking like a madman. He refused to slow down, refuse to acknowledge Frank raving in his ear. He kept going until he couldn't, leaning against the wall in the middle of an alleyway, panting. The gunshots were distant, sporadic, signaling the end of the firefight. Sirens sounded in the distance as the local police drew closer to the scene.

He did it.  
Somehow, he had gotten away. He had lived. He had gotten careless. A man came from beside him, seemingly out of nowhere, and punched him in his temple. It caught him off guard, sending him crashing to the ground, his pistol out of his hand. Immediately, the man got down and straddled him, bringing his hands to his throat.  
  
"Coward," he snarled. "Traitor!"

In the darkness of the alley, he couldn't see who was killing him, only that someone was. He was dazed, couldn't breathe, and dying. He struggled, trying in vain the pry the man's hands off his throat. His vision started to darken and panic started to set end. He flailed, hoping for something, anything, when his hand found steel. He brought it around and pressed the barrel against the man's head. He pulled the trigger.

The man's grip went slack, collapsing on top of him. He pushed him off, coughing, dazed, covered in blood and gore. And as he laid there, in a pool of blood not his own, he cried. Shepard cried, for the man he was, and the man that he had become.

* * *

Hours later, Shepard sat in the middle of the recruitment office. He had showered and changed clothes, but his eyes were still rimmed red. If the recruitment officers noticed, they didn't make it obvious. Instead, they ran him through the basics, and made him sign the necessary things. It was hard keeping it together, but somehow, he managed.  
  
"No record of family, dropped out of school in the sixth grade, and left the orphanage you were assigned to. By all records, you shouldn't be standing here, Shepard. This city, let alone this part of it... it's not built for people like you."  
  
Hearing all of that, he felt ashamed. Like he was lesser for not attending school or that somehow, they sense the taint on his hands. That they saw him for what he was: a criminal. A murderer.  
  
"... but some people, whether the politicians like to admit it or not, aren't fortunate enough to receive those things. That doesn't make you weak." Shepard looked up, stunned; the recruitment officer smile, a handsome man with a close haircut, and brown skin. "You're strong. Stronger than most. More important than that, you're a survivor. That'll serve you well here with us."

Shepard blinked back tears, smiling. A ray of hope in an otherwise stormy day. "Does that mean...?"  
  
"It might be premature of me to say. You still need to go through your physical, after all, but..." He extended a hand. "Welcome to the Alliance military, Private Shepard."

His smile turned into a grin. He accepted the officer's hand, shaking it thrice. "Thank you. I won't let you down, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back when I was young and first discovered my love of reading, storytelling, and world-building, I also discovered fanfictions. There was one story that stood out from the rest, and an author that enthralled me and made me want to do better.
> 
> He never finished his story.
> 
> This series, while not in all ways, is kinda of my love letter to him and his, the inspiration he provided, and the love for good stories that his nurtured within me. I hope that somehow, somewhere, he's reading this, and he's proud.


	2. Space, The Final Frontier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard reflects and thinks about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter. Expect another before the day is out.

The first time Shepard left Earth, he had been amazed, enthralled by the view of his home from the sky, and minutes after that, of Earth from space. From there, everything looked so small, and so beautiful. It was almost hard to imagine that down there, despite living it just a few days prior at the time, people suffered. People died. People were forced to steal and kill to survive. It was sobering to see.

He still thought about it then, a week after arriving at the Alliance training facility. As other recruits slept the night away in their bunk, he laid there, swiping through a pad. On the screen, an old article:

  
  
**War in The Streets of Little King**

This morning around 7AM, a firefight broke out at the Motel 9 in Little King. Both residents and police reported a massive battle between local gangs **_Twilight_** ** _Streets_** and the _**Tenth Street Reds**_. The shooting spanned an overwhelming thirty minutes in which dozens of civilians and assailants alike where killed, with even more being injured. Upon arrival, police subdued some of those responsible, and paramedics rushed to aid those injured.

Though many criminals were brought to justice, the leader of the _**Reds**_ , Frank "The Boss" Jackson was nowhere to be found. What's more, another man affiliated with the _**Reds**_ was found a couple of blocks over, dead after an apparent struggle in an alleyway. It's believed that Frank is responsible for his death. A warrant has been issued for his arrest. Police ask that any and all sighting of Frank be reported to your local PD.

Shepard blacked out the screen before getting deeper into the article, staring at the bunk above him. They were pinning the murder on Frank. The man was a menace, a criminal who didn't care who he hurt, so long as it filled his pockets. Even if he hadn't killed him, Shepard knew for a fact that he had killed others. He deserved to be brought to justice. He knew that.

So why did he feel so guilty?

* * *

"Damn, Shepard. Did you get any sleep last night?"

Sitting in the seat across from with his breakfast was man that was too loud considering how early it was. Dark eyes, black buzzcut, and a friendly smile, he regarded Shepard as he would an old friend.

He rolled his eyes, "Hard to do when I've got you snoring in the bed above me, Toombs."

"Hey! I've been told my snoring is rhythmic and peaceful. You just have bad taste."  
  
Both men laughed. Back when Shepard had first arrived, it was clear that he felt out a place, even more than the average recruit. Toombs had noticed and taken to being his personal guide despite being new himself. The two became quick friends after that, often drifting toward one another in-between training, and sometimes even throughout. Others were friendly too:

Kim Lin, a tall, athletic man with a warm smile, hailing from Japan.  
Jessica Holly, a short, brainy woman with a perpetual frown. She was a colony kid.  
Triss Merisilver, a redhead with a knowing, albeit mischievous glint in her eyes. She changed where she was from every time she was asked.

All people who helped him out at some point or another, all whom Shepard had quickly come to consider friends. None of the other three were around then, but he knew he'd catch them later. He couldn't get through the day without them gravitating to him at some point or another. In truth, he looked forward to it.

"Apparently we'll be starting weapons and combat training soon." Shepard looked up, curious as Toombs continued. "The last of the recruits finished up their gene therapy, so we'll start getting into the meat of things soon."

He felt excitement and nerves in equal measure. "Didn't think we'd be starting so soon. What about learning strategies and all that?"

Toombs gave a dismissive wave, "We'll get that too, but right now, the Alliance is trying to pump out recruits as fast as they can. Apparently there's been some trouble out in the traverse - Batarians have been more active than usual."

"Batarians..." He remembered them from the vidoc he watched. Slavers with four-eyes whom've been harassing humanity for as long as they've been around. "Didn't think I'd get to meet an alien so soon. I was hoping for an Asari."

Toombs snorted, choking on his food. As he slapped his chest, Shepard laughed. In the back of his mind, he thought of the Batarians. He always thought that people, human or otherwise, had the potential for both good and bad. It wasn't what what they were that defined them, but their choices. But from what he's heard, and from what he's read, the Batarians didn't conform to that. All of them were out for their own, evil gain.

It was childish. He knew that, but in the back of his mind, he hoped. Hoped that in fighting against them, he'd redeem himself for the wrongs he's done, and the blood he's spilled. Maybe, in saving lives through the Alliance, he could still be a good person, and not just a criminal running from his past.


	3. Skyllian Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another boring mission takes a turn for the worse. Faced against overwhelming odds, Shepard must overcome, or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. It was a longer chapter than normal, and I wanted to try to actually edit this one a bit instead of posting after finishing writing like I normally do.
> 
> Regardless, I hope y'all enjoy it!

Two years came and went in the blink of an eye.

Spurred on by his desire to atone and with his genetic modification kicking into high gear, Shepard experienced explosive growth. He had always been in shape, had always been good with his hands, but he had gone from a smart street thug to a lethal weapon, capable of disarming and killing an armed assailant with nothing more than his wits and bare hands. Fast, strong, durable. Even compared to the other recruits, all of whom were heads and shoulders above what any normal person could do, he was an outlier, an extraordinary soldier.

His superiors knew it, his fellow marines knew it, and at times, he even suspected it.   
So why the hell was he tasked with guarding a storeroom on _**Elysium**_?

He stood there fully-equipped, armored up and gun in hand beside the entrance. Toombs stood on the other side, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his omni-tool. It was quiet out and the night sky was clear. But even with that, Shepard grew frustrated. He shifted from foot to foot, sighing heavily.

"Can you be angry a little quieter?"

"I'm not angry," Shepard snapped back. "But this is bullshit. Why the hell are we even here? We should be out there doing real missions. Triss, Kim, and Jess got to leave this morning to go fight raiders in the colony close by, while we're stuck here, guarding a storeroom on a military base. That's not the least bit suspect to you?"

Toombs chuckled, "You're the only person I know who'd get mad at being given an easy job, Shep. Relax. Take it easy. We're switching out in ten anyways."

He scowled, "I didn't join up for the easy job. I joined to make a difference." To atone.

"Well aren't you a Boy Scout."

"Shut it, Toombs. And can you at least look like you're doing your job? If a higher-up walks by and sees you slacking off, we'll both get in trouble."

"Sir, yessir." He gave a lazy salute in response, straightening up and feigning attentiveness. Shepard sighed again, looking forward and frowning.

_"At this point, I'd kill for some excitement..."_

* * *

On the bridge of a pirate frigate, a Batarian warlord stood proud, arms crossed across his chest and looking to the glass in front of him. The swirling patterns of FTL vanished as the ship exited light speed, flanked and backed by a plethora of ships of equal and lesser strength, the colony world of Elysium spinning before him. Off to his right, a holoscreen came to life: a human man stood on it, his smile both cruel and opportunistic.

"Beautiful, isn't it? Safe, as far as the Alliance is concerned. They trust so much in their anti-air guns that they didn't even think to leave behind a couple of ships before chasing after that false SOS we sent out."

"Typical humans. You did well to lure them away, Elanos. The Hegemony will remember this deed, and reward you well for it."

"They better," Elanos said. "By the time all this is said and done, **_Elysium_** will be a crater smoking in the ground, and the name Elanos Haliat will be known throughout the Traverse... no, the galaxy."

"So it will. I'll call you once the raid has been complete." The Warlord swiped through the screen, dispersing it. "Ignorant human."

He walked forward; below him, other Batarians worked at their stations. From off to his right, one spoke up. "All ships are within firing range, Jalak. They await your signal."

"Humans are a blight upon the galaxy, and have been afforded too much freedom for too long. Let this day be a testament for our resolve, and a warning for all who cross the Batarians!" His omni-tool came to life, connecting him to the ships in their fleet. "All ships, open fire!"

* * *

"What the hell...?"

Shepard and Toombs both looked skyward. Down the path leading to them, the two soldiers coming to relieve them did as well. All around the base, all around Elysium, people looked at the lights streaking across sky. It looked like a... "Does Elysium have meteor showers?"

Too late, Shepard realized what it was. "GET TO CO-"

He's cut off, the first of them touching down on their relief, lighting up the night with an explosion, throwing him and Toombs both off their feet. Smoke drifted into the air as more explosions blossomed into existence, peppering the city and base alike. Sirens screamed to life, barely audible through the ringing in his ears. For a split-second, he felt nauseous. It took a conscious effort to fight past the feeling, righting himself as best as he could.

The HUD on his helmet lit up with alerts. His shields were down and slow to recover. Across from him, Toombs stirred on the ground, grasping for a brace that wasn't there. He groaned, fighting against the dizziness that still threatened him, forcing himself onto all fours.

"Toombs," he began. "Can you move?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"Then get up. We... need to help."

If another barrage had been launched, both of them would've died. Be it luck or a miracle, none came as they made their way to their feet. It wasn't until they had that he realized why: a sky filled with black shuttles, touching down beyond the base's perimeter. The anti-air cannons should've been reducing them to scrap, so why weren't they?

Once standing, Toombs vomited; Shepard looked at where the relief once stood. A flaming crater had replaced them. He stared before turning, pulling Toombs along until the man had recovered enough to settle into a run beside him. The same thing was happening not just there, but in the city as well. People were dying and they needed help.

As they moved, he opened up his comm channel. Immediately, Shepard was badgered with a plethora of backup request from people all over. They were outnumbered five to one. Most of their troops were out at the neighboring colony, leaving behind a token force for Elysium. They never expected an invasion, much less one capable of somehow circumventing their defenses. It was a bad situation that was quickly becoming worse.

He expanded the HUD in his helmet, bringing up a map of Elysium. Blue backup request all over, but the closest was just outside the base gates, less than half a click away. He expanded it, speaking into his omni-tool.

"This is Private Shepard. Private Toombs and I are less than three minutes out. What's the situation? Over."

"This is Lance Corporal Locksley! Enemy troops are flooding our position!" An explosion in the background cut him off. He returned a few seconds later, "Get your ass here ASAP, solider! We lose this gate, we lose the base! Over!"

"Double time, Toombs! We can't lose that gate!"

At top speed, it took them but a little over a minute to reach the gate, hearing the gunfight long before they reached it. Marines stood at the top of the wall, firing over the other side. Shepard wasted no time in climbing up the ladder leading to the top, moving two rungs at a time. Once up top, he settled into cover and drew his gun, opening fire onto the assailants beyond.

The streets before him were littered with wreckages, and amongst them were fighters clad in black armor, firing on the marines as they advanced. There was half a squadron's worth, maybe less, with many of them ducking into buildings to try and get a better angle.

"Holy shit," Toombs shouted, opening fire. "There's too many!"

"Doesn't matter, marine!" A voice recognized as Locksley shouted; he ducked into cover, cursing as his Lancer overheated. "We hold this wall, no matter what!"

"Sir!" Shepard fired in bursts, precise, eye in his scope and his body on a swivel. Five shots, down. Seven shots, down. Their shields were shit, and with a couple of well placed shots, one after another were sent tumbling to the pavement. The fact that he was killing, effortlessly at that, didn't phase him. It was them or the people he swore to protect, and so long as he was breathing, it'd always be them.

"Hot damn!" You could hear the grin in Locksley's voice, posting back up on the wall, omni-tool flashing. "Turn it up! Bring the bastards to their knees!"

Outmanned, but not outgunned, they fought. Soldiers dropped on their side, some falling off the wall and to the ground below, but they persisted. Shepard persisted. Eventually, the aggressors faltered, seeming to notice that they were dropping like flies.

"Retreat," One of theirs barked, his voice gravely. "Fall back to the rec-station!"

Their group, the few dozen that remained, ducked in-between the buildings and ran. It wasn't until the last one disappeared that a cheer went up from the wall, soldiers rejoicing in their victory. Shepard was breathing heavy, sweating despite the cooling vents running in his seat. He relaxed, just in time for Locksley to slap his shoulder.

"Fine work, marine! You showed the bastards why you don't mess with the Alliance!" He brought his omni-tool to his face, speaking into it. "Help the wounded. Someone get in contact with command base, see if we can get a sit-rep on what's happening' in the city."

Toombs walked up as he let his omni-tool fade, "Who the hell were those guys? Why are they even here!?"

"Batarians. Warlords, mercenaries, and a lotta 'em. And if I had to guess, revenge for the anti-piracy campaign the Alliance has been runnin'." Locksley looked back out at the city, voice suddenly grim. "Bold of 'em to retaliate like this though... While all of our fleet ships are away too. All while we can't contact them either? Too many coincidences for 'em to just be that."

"Sir!" Another marine ran up, smudge on his face and his glasses cracked. "Update from command! They still can't get through to the ships. The signal is being jammed."

"Fuckin' perfect. Explains the lack of anti-air too. Anything else?"

The marine nodded, "They've pinpointed the source. Ten clicks south of the base, in the Elysium Shopping Center. Red Team has been tasked with destroying the jammer, and eliminating any hostiles they encounter along the way."

Locksley sucked on his teeth, "That'll be a problem..." He looked below the wall. Just off to the right on the ground laid a woman, hole in her visor and a pool of blood beneath her. "Red Team's leader."

He looked doubtful. Reluctant, even, but he continued. "I'll lead-"

"Sir," Shepard cut him off. "I can do it. I'll lead Red Team."

"You?!" Toombs shouted.

"You?" Locklsey asked.

"Me," He declared. "All due respect, we need you at this wall, sir. If it falls, we lose the base. But that jammer also needs to be destroyed. You've seen me in action. You know I can get it done."

Locksley regarded him with genuine consideration, and... was that respect? ".. Private Shepard. As of right now, you've been given emergency command of Red Team. You're tasked with the destruction of the jammer and the elimination of any hostiles who get in your way. It goes without saying that this mission is critical to the survivability of the colony."

Shepard didn't know if Locksley had the authority to grant him so a roll, but honestly, he didn't care. This was his chance. A chance to do good. A chance to prove to himself that he had changed for the better, and was more than what the _**Reds**_ had tried to make him become.

"I won't let you down, sir."

"I hope not! Head down and gather your squad! We'll open the gate once you're ready."

Shepard nodded and turned, "Toombs-"

"Save it, Shep." Even with his visor down, he could feel his friend glaring at him. "Honestly, I'd punch you if I didn't know I'd break my hand on your helmet."

He smiled, "So you'll come with me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Somebody's gotta watch your ass out there."

"Glad it's you, man." He climbed down the ladder. Immediately, three other soldiers flocked to him. "Red Team?"

"Sir," they said in unison, all more than a little somber. He nodded his head in empathy. He couldn't imagine losing a leader like they did, much less a friend.

"You all know what we have to do. Search and destroy. We get in, take down this jammer, we get out, and take down any damn Batarian that's dumb enough to get in our way. We do that, and we save this colony. None of these deaths will have been in vain." He paused, heart racing. Nerves at a time like this? He steeled himself as best he could, continuing. "Now let's go make it happen."

"Sir!"

Shepard pivoted, readying his Lancer. "Open it, Locksley!"  
  
"Copy that!"

The gates slid open, revealing the streets beyond. Shepard wasted no time in moving out onto them, Toombs behind him, and Red Team bringing up the rear. In his comms, Locksley's voice spoke: "Godspeed, Shepard."

"We'll be back before you know it. Shepard, over and out." He kept his eyes forward as he moved, but spoke to his team. "Keep to the alleyways and shadows. We don't want to get into a fight if we don't have to."

* * *

Detours made them take longer than he wanted.

More than once, Red Team ran into an enemy patrol, having to quickly duck back into an alleyway and circle around. A couple of times they ran across a firefight, marines battling out against Batarians on the streets and in buildings, or civilians being rounded up. It was frustrating. More than once, Shepard almost gave the command to open fire. But if they got bogged down before reaching their goal, then everyone, the whole colony would be lost. They needed support from the Alliance. They needed their fleet.

The air was thick with dust and smoke, coating their armor, and clouding their visor. It limited their visibility, but it limited their enemies too. It was for it and it alone that upon reaching their destination, they were able to sneak into an office across the street despite squads of Batarians patrolling in front of the center, quietly moving down into the basement. There, they set to work on a locked door.

The shopping center was a wide, three story building that spanned half a mile. It was a popular hangout spot for residents and off-duty soldiers alike, but now, parts of it were smoldering and blown out, caught in the initial bombardment.

"When this part of the colony was first being built, it was intended to be where the military base was." Red Team's tech expert, a man nicknamed Teddy, spoke as he worked on hacking the lock. "Beneath the streets, connecting most of these buildings, are escape tunnels. They aren't common knowledge, and most had been sealed off." The door whisked open. He stood, smiling. "Until now, that is."

"Good work," Shepard said, peering into the tunnel. It was dark, but a click of his flashlight revealed a stable exit - entrance, in their case. "I'll take point. Chuck, behind me. Teddy, in the middle. Lucy and Toombs will bring up the rear."

They all nodded and took up their positions, weapons ready. Shepard steeled himself and after a few seconds, pressed forward. He was swift, moving at a light jog. It didn't take them long to reach the end where a ladder awaited them. It took them even less to get up it, Shepard motioning for the others to follow once the way was clear. Teddy brought up his omni-tool, motioning toward the exit leading deeper into the building. Shepard nodded, shutting off his flashlight and moving toward the door.

His heart pounded, blood rushed in his ears. He ignored it as best he could, ears straining to hear something, anything on the other side of the door. When he didn't, he slowly opened it, stepping out with his finger resting near the trigger. 

Blood-stained walls and floors, but beyond that, clear. He glanced back at Teddy - he motioned for them to move deeper into the complex, and up the stairs. Shepard nodded, leading the group down the hall. Flanking them on either side were rooms every ten or so yards. The employee-only area, perhaps? There was an office, a meeting room, and a break room of sorts, all empty, all with things thrown about. Where had everyone gone?

No, he couldn't think about it, not then. He had to focus, so he did, leading his team up the stairs. It was in the same state as the other rooms they passed, papers and chairs strewn about, blood flecking them both. He ignored it as best he could, walking toward the other end of the hall. There, a door stood open. He could hear voices drifting in from the other side.

He glanced back at his team, in the beginnings of making a hand sign when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. A Batarian, probably patrolling the upper floors. He stopped, shocked, and for a split-second, Shepard almost panicked. But his body moved before his mind did. The Batarian brought his gun up, but he backhanded it, sending its shots into a glass display beside them, shattering it. He brought his opposite hand around, hard, smacking his gauntlet into the assailants helmet hard enough to crack it. It sent him tumbling over the banister, screaming on his short fall down to the ground.

Red Team rushed into position; across and below them, Batarians shouted in surprise. In the center, on the ground floor, a machine stood, pulsing with electromagnetic power. "Open fire!" The command came and they cut loose. Stealth out the window, the squad wasted no time in putting the enemies down, jumping down onto the bottom level. Immediately, Teddy ran forward, unhooking a belt of grenades from his waist while the others kept watch.

"They know we're here," he stated. "No point in trying to be quiet now."

Shepard nodded, "Set it on a timer for ten minutes. It'll give us time to get out of here, and if we can't, then... then the mission will be complete either way."

Teddy nodded, face grim as he set to work. Beyond the crackle of the Batarian radio, probably checking in to see what the noise was, it was quiet.  
Maybe that was why he noticed the sound of someone above them.

He swung his rifle around, clicking his flashlight on. Someone screamed - a human scream, ducking out of view before he could pull the trigger. His face paled. 

"Are there civilians here..." Toombs sounded worried, and for good reason. Their mission just got a whole lot more complicated.

"Goddammit," Shepard lowered his gun, albeit barely. "This is Private Shepard of the Alliance military! If someone's up there, then show yourself! You have until the count of ten! One!"

"W-Wait!" More noise. A person showed themselves, a woman, and she wasn't alone. More and more people showed up on the banister. A body short of a dozen, all in various state of injury, all terrified. Shepard lowered his gun completely at the sight of them. Behind him, Lucy cursed.

"What's the play here, Shepard?"

"Finish setting the bomb, Teddy. Toombs, with me."

Both of them quickly made their way to the third floor, slowing to a stop in front of the group. "Are there any more of you?"

"No... The rest are-" She trailed off, emotion apparent. "I think we're the only ones left."

Seeing them like that, Shepard's features softened. A bad situation. A terrible situation, but one he was determined to pull through. The mission had to be complete, but they couldn't risk running civilians through live fire. Reinforcements could be there any seconds. Any time past that was a miracle, and he knew better than to waste any of it debating on what he knew he had to do.

"Toombs, lead these people to the second floor. Take through the same path we used to get here."

"Uh, sure, but-"

"Red Team," Shepard spoke into his omni-tool. "As soon as the bomb is planted, head back the way we came. Toombs will be leading the civilians out through the tunnel. You're to help escort them back to base, and to avoid firefights as much as you can along the way.

"Roger."

"Wait, Shep." Toombs stepped in front of him, one hand held up. "What about you?"

"Someone has to give the Batarians a reason to keep from looking for you all." He smiled, genuine despite the weight of his decision. "I'll make a lot of noise. Just make sure you get far enough away to avoid the blast."

"Like hell you are!" Toombs stepped closer, free hand clenched at his side. "You're coming with us! I'm not leaving my friend to die on some suicide mission!"

"Not suicide," he stated. "Duty. Sacrifice."

Strangely enough, Shepard didn't feel uneasy. He didn't feel nervous.  
All his life, he had done bad. It wasn't until that fateful day that he had killed another, but the blood on his hands didn't just start staining it then. There had always been bodies to his name, lives that he had cut short. He dealt sand to the desperate, offered a hook to those desperate for an escape, no matter the form. How many of them lay cold in their graves? How many lives did he ruin? 

He had always thought himself a good person, a good man who was just doing what he had to, but really, he was selfish. He was a criminal, just as bad - no, worse than Frank ever was. Frank accepted who he was, but Shepard? Shepard had never been brave enough to look in the mirror without rose-tinted glasses.

This...  
This was his chance. His chance to atone. A chance to do some good, and tip the scales back in his favor.  
  
"This is what we signed up for, Toombs. What I signed up for. Let me do this. Please."

Toombs stared at him, silent. In truth, he didn't need to speak. His expression, the weight of the emotion that it showed, it spoke a thousand words by itself. The seconds that passed felt like the longest of his life, but in the end, he relented, slapping a hand onto his shoulder. "Give them hell." He ran off on that, calling for the civilians to follow him, bounding down the steps. In his ear, Teddy's spoke: "Bomb set, Shepard. Batarians are on their way. Reinforcements, probably."

"Follow after Toombs, Red Team. I'll be right behind you."

"Sir."

He listened as they left; lights bounced in the distance, Batarians, rushing forward, and getting closer and closer by the second.

_"Ten minutes..."_

He didn't have much in the way of cover, so he made his own. He grabbed a cart, dragging it until it was pressed against the banister, sitting on a bridge that connected one side of the mall to the other. He took up a spot against it, switching out his Lancer for a Titan sniper rifle, aiming through his scope. The lead Batarian was a little ahead of the squad coming in, moving in faster once he caught sight of the bodies. Shepard waited with bated breath for one second, two seconds, three...

He squeezed the trigger; the Batarian's head was blown up, dropping him mid-sprint. The others behind him scattered, but not before Shepard caught another, the telltale beeping of his sniper letting him know it overheated when he did. He switched back to his Lancer, omni-tool lighting up as his gun began Overkill. He aimed, waited a second for them to peek out, and fired. Another dropped and the others ducked back into cover, but he didn't let up, keeping them pinned.

But there was no rest for the wicked. Further out, beyond where he thought to look, a sniper set themselves up and shot at him. It caught him in his arm; his HUD lit up with warnings and he fell backwards, the pain great enough to mute his cries. A silent scream escaped him. Below him, freed of his oppressive fire, the Batarians advanced, barking to each other in their harsh language. It pierced his pain, reminded him where he was, and the danger still there for his team.

He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up, crawling until his back was against the stand, breathing heavily. His left arm hung limp at his side, blood spilling from the breach in his armor, and pooling inside the suit itself. He wouldn't be using it again, but he couldn't let himself bleed out. He applied medi-gel, breathing a sigh of relief as the pain began to numb. But unable to hold his rifle, he drew his pistol, listening for the Batarians. 

Some moved to the second level and were making their way toward the third. Others checked the bodies of their comrades. None were checking the device thankfully, but it wouldn't be long before they did. How much time did he even have left? 

As if somehow privy to his thought, by chance or design, his HUD brought up the timer. Less than two minutes left, and going down fast. Had it really been eight already?

_"Doesn't matter. Just a little longer..."_

He turned, keeping his head low and out of sight of the sniper. The Batarians had reached the third floor. Two of them, drawing closer to where he knelt, guns drawn. He waited, waited until they got closer when suddenly, he burst up, firing at them as fast as he could as he took off southwest, off the bridge and away from them. One dropped, but the other returned fire before his shields ran out. Shepard's had recovered enough to stop the beginnings of his burst, but the last catches him in his back. He stumbled, fell, but caught himself with his good hand, letting him recover just enough to stumble the last few steps into an open shop before he collapsed, pistol spilling from his hand.

Less than a minute.

He must've blacked out, because when he came back to, he was on his back, and a Batarian stood over him. He brought a hand up, letting his visor clear to reveal four, black eyes and a smug grin, looking at Shepard as though he had won. In his mind, he probably did.

"You're done, human. You might've made a good slave like the rest of your kind, but I think I'd rather just kill you."

Hearing that, Shepard laughed. He'd have kept laughing too if he didn't start coughing up blood, earning the ire of the man above him.

"What's so damn funny?!"

His HUD showed ten seconds. Despite himself, Shepard grinned, showing a mouth full of blood-stained teeth. " **This**."

The bomb erupted, the building shook, and the floor started to give way. The Batarian screamed and as he and Shepard fell and his vision grew black, he could only ask one, desperate question:

_"Was I good enough...?"_


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against all odds, Shepard survives. What does a man do when he survives what he thought would be his end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light NSFW-ish things ahead.
> 
> Shorter chapter. Expect another before the end of the week.

The first thing he noticed was the beeping.

Rhythmic, uniformed, it was a steady knock against the back of his skull. It pulled him from his dreamless slumber, eyes opening to a room so bright it hurt. He closed them and swallowed - at least, he tried to, only to find his throat dry and his lips chapped. The second thing he noticed? He was thirsty. Incredibly so.

Someone must've noticed his stirring, a blip in the machines monitoring him, maybe, because the next thing he knew, a person he assumed to be a nurse walked in, speaking to him in a gentle tone and touching him with even gentler hands.

"Corporal," she sung, words like a light melody to his ears. "It's good to see you awake. Try not to move too much. You're healing, but your stitches might tear if you strain yourself."

Corporal? She must've mistaken him for someone else. Locksley, maybe, but the two of them looked nothing alike. Had the explosion burned his face, forced it to be wrapped in bandages? He brought a hand to his face; there was stubble, suddenly itchy as he became aware of it, a few sore spots, but no bandages.

".. you must have me confused with someone else." Talking hurt, but he continued, his voice growing stronger as he did. "I'm a private. Private John Shepard."

"Oh? And here I thought the promotions and award that command announced was for the Lion of Elysium, John Shepard. I'm pretty sure that there's not another marine with that name, especially one who earned the Star of Terra."

He heard her words, but the meaning behind them didn't register until five seconds after the fact. He stared, dumbfounded, jaw slack. "... huh?"

She laughed. He hadn't noticed earlier because his eyes had been adjusting, but the nurse, Su C. Buss, was beautiful. Hazel eyes, full lips, and striking black hair. She regarded him both in awe and something else, something that suddenly made him extremely aware of how nice she smelled, and how her hand was still on him, and drifting lower.

"They say without you, the Batarians would've gotten us all. Killed us, or made us slaves, and with our fleet being none the wiser. You saved us..." She smiled, equal parts enchanting and alluring. "You're a hero, Shepard."

Someone knocked on the door; she pulled her hand back just before she got where he wanted her, feigning as though she was checking his IV. At the same time, a man stepped through the door, regarding Shepard as though he were an old friend.

"Corporal," he said. "The nurses said you were awake. I wanted to check in on you before the brass swung by. See the man behind all the stories flying around Elysium right now."

"Right," he paused. "I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. You are?"

He chuckled, "Right, where are my manners?" If he was surprised, it didn't show on his face while he offered his hand. "Anderson. David Anderson, Alliance marine."

Shepard shook his hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Anderson. Were you here when the Batarians attacked? What happened after the jammer blew?"

"I wasn't," he began. "I was in system by chance when you brought down the jammer and the alert went out. Got to Elysium within the hour, the fleet close behind. While my shuttle went planet-side, the Alliance fleet tore the Batarians a new one. Last I heard before I touched down, those still alive where in full retreat, abandoning their assault and their ground troops. It was simple clean up after that. Round of the Batarians still here, kill those that resisted. The hard part came after. Search and rescue is never easy... but it was made a helluva lot easier because of your actions, Shepard."

Shepard nodded, but didn't speak. Recognizing the silent request for him to keep going, Anderson smiled and continued.

"Then came you. Truth be told, when your squad let the rest of us know what you did, there wasn't much hope to recover anything, much less see you still alive and kicking. Red Team though... Toombs, in particular, refused to give up. Same for Locksley, your friends that returned with the fleet, and every other marine. How could we abandon the hero who saved Elysium?"

"So imagine the reaction when they not only found you, but found you breathing, despite god knows how many injuries you had. God... Don't think I've ever heard a louder cheer... Never felt so much genuine happiness and relief in people, most who've never even heard of you until that moment, like I did then."

Anderson regarded him again, his respect apparent, but with something else just behind it. Something analytical almost. He looked at Su - somehow, he conveyed his thoughts with just it, because she nodded, leaving the room. It wasn't until the door shut behind her that he spoke again.

"The higher-ups will be here any minute. They'll repeat the same stuff I said with nowhere near as much flare, officially make you aware of your promotion, and sing your praises. Make no mistake though, Shepard. This attack that the Batarians pulled? It can't go unanswered. We beat them back, sure, but no one should've been able to get this close, and do this much damage. The Alliance is in a precarious space right now, and it needs leaders, and soldiers with great ability, but even greater potential. They'll need someone like you."

"When the Alliance comes calling, can we count on you to answer?"

Hearing all that, Shepard didn't respond right away. It wasn't shock that kept him quiet, but the weight of what Andersoon seemed to be asking him and his recognition of it, even if he was just glimpsing the tip of the iceberg.

This went beyond what being a normal marine entailed. That's what he thought, and for a few fleeting seconds, he asked himself: Could he do it?

But almost just as fast as the question came, so did his answer. Through the sacrifice he made, earnest as it was, Shepard truly believed himself to be a changed man. He had come as close to atonement as one could, if not done so completely. The fact that he was alive in spite of all the things that he had done was proof to him. Proof that his efforts hadn't been for naught and the Universe saw fit to let him know, both in saving his life, and giving him this chance to do more through Anderson's offer.

Could he do it? What the hell kind of question was that?  
Of course he could.

"Did you even have to ask?" He said, grinning. "Without a doubt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update. Online courses suck, but thankfully, I've completed all but one of my finals, and that one is Friday. Summer Break: Quarantine Edition! starts after that.


	5. Akuze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the year that followed the attack on Elysium, Shepard has been part of numerous missions fighting back against the Batarians. Now, in a mission gone horribly wrong, he finds himself against his greatest challenge yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated splitting this into two parts, but decided against it. Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Anderson - Captain David Anderson, as he'd later find out, had hit the nail right on the head. The brass came and went, leaving behind a medal and a promise of a proper celebration once he had recovered. The fact that he was alive aside, three days and nights buried under rubble had done a number to him. But as he sat there in bed, staring out the window as night fell, he realized how pointless it was, at least right then. Celebration could come after the war had been won, and the threat of Batarians had been curbed.

It's that knowledge, that dedication to see it done that spurred him on. Any normal man should've taken three months minimum to recover, enjoyed their well deserved rest, but Shepard?  
Shepard did it in one.

The day he was discharged was the same day he was officially granted command of Red Team and given his choice of members to bolster the squad. It came as no surprise that he chose his friends to join him. It was, however, when he immediately requested a transfer to the front lines against the fight against the Batarians.

That was how Red Team ended up as the go-to squad for assaults against the aliens. Counter-terrorism, direct assaults, special reconnaissance, they did it all, and excelled every time, never losing a man. They became heroes for the alliance, faces plastered on posters seen throughout colonies and Earth alike, golden soldiers whom others sought to follow.

It felt good, knowing he was making a difference. Knowing that he was an example for others to look up to. In the downtime between missions, it was a realization that often snuck up on him, and made him grin without knowing, much to the apparent chagrin of his closest friend.

"There he goes again," exclaimed Toombs, seated sideways on a chair with his legs draped over the side. "Cheesing for no reason. It's not cool keeping us in the dark, Shep! If you've got a girl sending you messages, it's only right that you share!"

"Girls," Jessica corrected, fiddling with her omni-tool. "Him and Kim both, it seems. I've even gotten a few..."

"What?! So Triss and I are the only ones...?!"

"Um, excuse you." Across from Toombs, Triss did a dramatic flip of her long hair. "Don't think I'm on your level, Toombs. Getting fan mail isn't anything new for me."

While Toombs dismayed, Shepard couldn't help but chuckle, giving a dismissive wave. "It's not any girl. Can't I just be happy because I'm happy?"

"Nope," said a voice behind him, setting a hand from his shoulder. A glance behind him revealed Kim, grin on his face and a teasing look in his eyes. "It's okay, Shep. You don't have to spare Toombs' feelings. It's what happens when you roll with the best."

"Eat me!"

They all laughed. It took another clearing their throat to stop them. Shepard turned, immediately recognizing Captain Keys, leading officer of the station they were on. He stood, snapping to attention. "Captain on deck!" The others followed suit, mirroring his salute.

Keys smiled, "At ease, marines. I'm not here to ruin your fun." He looked at Shepard. "But I do need to see you, Corporal. Meet me on the bridge, five minutes from now."

"Sir!"

Keys turned and left. Behind him, Kim spoke up. "Captain came all the way down here just to say that? Why didn't he just send an officer."

"Must be important," Shepard guessed. "I'll be back."

He followed after the Captain, walking the familiar path to the bridge. It didn't take him long to reach it, the door sliding open to reveal the familiar backdrop of space beyond the windows, and a familiar face in the man standing at attention in front of Captain Keys.

"Corporal Locklsey?"

Locksley turned, greeting him with a warm smile. "Shepard. You're lookin' good." He extended a hand. "Though it's sergeant now."

Shepard shook his hand, "I hadn't heard. Congratulations."

"Eh, it's mostly because of Elysium. Never got to thank you properly with a drink for that. Hospital wouldn't let me bring 'em in, and you left right after you were discharged."

"Well, there's a bar here on station. We can go there, catch up."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Gentlemen," Keys said. "Now that you're both here, let's get to business."

"Sir."

Keys turned and with a wave of his omni-tool, brought up a hologram of a planet. Shepard didn't recognize it, but the look on Locksley's face told him that he did. "Akuze?"

"Yes," Keys confirmed. "Humanity's newest colony, set on edge of Alliance space. Recently, all communication from it has been lost. It could just be a malfunction on their end, but after Elysium, well... we'd rather not take chances." He turned, looking at them both individually before he continued. "We suspect Batarians."

Suddenly, Shepard understood the gravity of the situation. Both he and Locksley had been on Elysium. They had seen the devastation caused firsthand.

"Unfortunately, a majority of our fleet is occupied right now. That's where you both come in." He waved his omni-tool again, replacing the planet with two other lists of names: squads, Shepard realized. "You two will be joined by Corporal Yeager and Corporal Del. You're tasked with the investigation of the colony and if possible, bringing her communications back online. The Saint will be stationed a short jump away. You'll radio them for either evacuation for the colonist or backup against the assailants. Any questions?"

"None, sir."

"Good. Go prepare your squads. You leave at fifteen hundred hours."

* * *

"Hey, Shepard."

The voice of Locksley came over his comm-piece. He ran through his third round of checking his gear, a ritual of sorts to help steel himself for the fighting he thought inevitable. Against Batarians, it always was. "Sir?"

He scoffed, "Drop the formalities, man. Keys ain't here. What do you think though? Expect any Batarians to really be here?"

"I've learned to hope for the best, but expect the worst, and prepare for just that. I'm expecting a companies worth, with even more a short jump away if they run into any trouble. Communications will be jammed, and it'll be a fight to get them back on in time for reinforcements to come when there's still some of us left saving."

"Shit..."

Shepard laughed, "Chin up, Locksley. The worst almost never happens. Elysium was the only time."

"Yeah? Let's hope it stays like that then. Locksley out."

From the front of the shuttle, the pilot called out. "Two minutes until we touch down!"

"Right," Shepard stood, grabbing onto a handle to steady himself. "Alright, people. Less than two minutes out."

Before him, his team checked their equipment. Familiar faces, all of them. He had known most of them since he first started at the Academy. The others, since Elysium. It made it easier to recognize the anxiety in their movements, the small hints and signs that nerves were messing with them. It always did right before a mission kicked off. Shepard wasn't an exception to that, he just rose above it quicker than most. For them, it almost always required a few words from him. And if that's what it took, he'd make speeches to them for hours.

"Do you know what the other soldiers call us? Red Death. The Immortals. The best that the Alliance has to offer." He locked eyes with each and every single one of them as he continued. "Each and every single marine here has been through the worst of it. Time and time again, we're given missions that no normal squad could hope to accomplish, much less do so without losing a single man. Yet, we do just that, over and over and over again? Why is that?"

"Because we're the best?" Kim guessed.  
"Because we're thorough?" Jessica asked.  
"Because we're good at what we do?" Toombs suggested.

"No," Shepard stated. "Because no matter what, we have each other's back."

"I know no matter what we face, who we face, I can count on you guys to have my back. That I can walk forward without fear of someone sneaking up behind me, and press through whatever's dumb enough to stand in my way. No matter the arguments we have, no matter the differences, we're friends. Family. And that gives us strength. That gives me strength."

He smiled, "Knowing that, today will be no different. We'll figure out what's wrong, fix it, and get back to the station for a round of drinks on Locksley, and the next one on me."

Kim grinned, "I hear that!"

"Good." The shuttle touched down and the door slid open; Shepard put on his helmet, drawing his Lancer. "Then let's go make it happen."

He stepped out of the shuttle and onto the landing pad, greeted by the sight of clear skies, a small colony thirty feet below the cliff they stood upon, and some stairs and a lift off to his right, presumably leading down to it. As the others filed out behind him and the shuttle took off, he brought up his omni-tool.

"This is Shepard, checking in. Red Team has landed and about to make it's way down a flight of stairs leading into the colony. Has anyone else made it? Over."

No response.

"This is Shepard, checking in. Has anyone else made it? Over."

A few seconds passed; he opened his mouth, but a voice came through.

"Yeager, checking in. Had some weird interference. Levi Team has made it into the colony and has started investigating the western section. No sign of colonist or hostiles so far. No sign of a firefight either. Over."

"Del, checking in from the eastern section. COG Team found... something. Not a body, but it looks like one of the buildings had an entire wall melted off. What kind of attack is doing that to industrial steel? Over."

"No clue," Locksley began. "Blue Team is investigating the southern section, just in front of the stairs. We've found tracks, like someone was dragged, but it disappears into a bunch of upturned dirt. Thinking someone might've been buried. Over."

"Roger," Shepard began. "Red Team will proceed to the northern section. Intel says the communication system is back there as well, so we'll handle bringing them back online. Over."

He glanced back at his team, "We'll make for the communication station. Jess, I want you and Teddy working to bring it back online. The rest of us will guard the station and once finished, join in the investigation."

"Sir."

"Right. Let's move out."

Shepard moved at a steady pace, forgoing the lift in favor of the stairs. Even from the bottom, the colony looked normal, like smaller version of the one he visited on Eden Prime a few missions back. It was the absence of the colonist that set him on edge, the absence of noise beyond their steps and the other teams occasionally updating them on their progress. It was stressful, unnerving, so when their team reached the communication room, he couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief.

"Jess, Teddy. You're up."

"On it."

Both technicians knelt before the door, omni-tool alight as they hacked their way past it. In a few seconds, it was open, and all but Chuck and Kim funneled inside, making sure the room was clear. Papers were strewn about, tables and chairs were upturned. People had been there, panicking, and left, but where? Off world? Regardless, why didn't they call anything in?

"Comms are on the second floor," Jess said.

"Head up. Triss, Lucy, head up and guard them as they work. The sooner we get comms back online, the faster we all can complete the investigation."

They nodded, heading up the stairs with Jess and Teddy close behind. Toombs rummaged through the papers on the ground, frowning.

"Something wrong?"

"It's..." He hesitated, but continued after a few seconds. "This feels off, Shepard. None of this fits the Batarian M.O. I don't think we're dealing with them here."

"Agreed," Shepard began. "But until we figure out what's what, we're stuck here. We can't leave until we at least get some hints about what happened to the colonist. I can't."

Toombs sighed, "Yeah, I know... It's just-"

"Communications back online," Teddy interrupted, voice in his comms. "Nothing wrong with either from what we've seen. It just wasn't working for whatever reason. Over."

"Good work. Get in touch with the Alliance, let them know the situation. I'll radio the other team. Over."

He brought up his omni-tool, "Locksley, Del, Yeager. We got comms back online. Found anything on your end?"

"Signs of a struggle," Yeager replied. "Against what, I don't know, but whoever was in these buildings, none left peacefully. Lot of stuff strewn about."

"Same on my end," Del said. "More melted walls too, but no sign of what caused it."

"We've run into the same thing," Locksley said. "We can't leave until we find out what happened though, and I'm sure command will agree. Let's setup for the night. We can continue investigating at first light. Blue Team and Levi Team can take first watch."

"Roger. We'll start heading back to the base of the stairs. Shepard, over and out."

Once more, Shepard looked at the mess of the front room, frowning. He felt like was missing something. Something obvious, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what. He could only hope it wasn't something too big, or even better, he was worrying over nothing.

* * *

Seated in the living room of one of the abandoned houses, Red Team decompressed.

Teddy had suggested that he stay behind and keep looking over the comms. "Something's bothering me," he had said. "It's probably nothing though." The rest of them returned to the southern section, setting up a temporary base. Everyone was tense, Shepard included. That gnawing feeling still ate at him, like an itch he couldn't scratch, or a word that he had forgotten just as he was about to use it.

"I'm tired," he stated, halfway hoping to convince himself that's what it was. "I'm going to sleep in the other room. Wake me when it's our turn to run patrol."

"Sir."

He stood from the couch, heading into the other room. A small bedroom, pink and blue, with toys scattered on the ground, and... a piece of paper with writing on it. He knelt and grabbed it, scanning it in the dim light of the moon overhead:

_Mommy keeps crying. Daddy disappeared, caught by one of the monsters. I can hear it. It's roaring._

_I'm scared._

It felt as if the world had almost been pulled out from under him. His face paled; the gnawing erupted as realization hit him.

_"This is a trap."_

Suddenly, he heard a roar, and shots in the distance. He's on his feet and out in the living room in heartbeat, Red Team already gearing up and readying their weapons. He's on the comms in the next, "This is Red Team. What's going on out there? We heard shots. Over."

It took too long for comfort for a response to come, "This is Levi Team! We're being- Jesus Christ, run! Fall back to the launchpad! Fall back to t-"

The comms went dead.  
Around him, in the light of the moon, Red Team looked pale, and terrified.  
It's not until then that he realized that he probably looked the same way.

"This is Red Team, come in! Dammit, Locksley, where are you?!"

"Shit! This is Locksley! Shepard, Levi Team is down, and my team is in full retreat! We're bein' attacked by giant fuckin' worms! They came outta nowhere!" Sounds of gunfire and a roar cut in, heard through comms and by ear. "We can't reach The Saint! Comms must be down again! Get your ass to the comms building and get them back up! They're are only shot of gettin' outta here alive!"

"Roger. Hold on, Locksley. We're heading there now."

"Up the stairs, up the-" Static.

Shepard cursed, "Get up, Red Team. We need to get to the comms station, ASAP."

"Sir!"

He's out the door and moving north within seconds, gun at the ready, and praying that they make it there in time. He hadn't heard from Del Team. Had they been taken out too? Behind him, Jessica ran through applications on her omni-tool, sucking on her teeth in frustration. "My program isn't responding. I can't access it remotely."

Shepard cursed, bringing up his omni-tool as he moved. "Teddy, this is Shepard. Do you read me? Comms are down again. We need to get them back up. Over."

No response. "Teddy, do you copy?"

Silence. He cursed again, "Double time, Red Team!"

From a run to a sprint, his team raced across the ground, thundering toward the comms station. He led the group, catching a corner without a breaking momentum, spotting the comms station in the distance. But at the same time that he did, the ground shook and a roar sounded, closer than any that came before it. If possible, his team ran harder, faster.

But not fast enough.

From beneath a house, coming through it with enough force to send it flying backwards was a massive worm-like creature, tentacles flailing and its glowing, blue mouth opened in a roar, sending them all falling to the ground. Shepard was the first to recover, Toombs second, both opening fire on the beast. If it dealt any damage though, he couldn't see it. He could only watch in horror as it lashed out despite his efforts, grabbing Chuck and Lucy both, pulling them screaming underground with it.

"NO! Goddammit, GODDAMMIT!"

The others recovered, on their feet and backing off, eyes wide. Beside him, Toombs sobbed. On the ground before him was Triss, eyes blank, and blood spilling from her nose. She had landed hard, too hard, and wrong. Three of their friends, their family, gone in an instant. Shepard wanted to scream, to curse at the monsters, and himself, but he doesn't. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to start moving again.

"Move, Red Team! We need to get to the comms station!"

His team followed, terrified, distraught, but forging on. Something in him cried, hearing them behind him, knowing that despite what just happened, they weren't abandoning him. In the distance, the sound of gunfire sounded out, albeit a fraction of what it was before. Marines, his comrades, were being slaughtered.

_"No more," He thought. "I won't let them die!"_

He came upon the door, greeted by a slight buzz. "Locked. Jess-" She was on it before he finished, hacking through the lock. Behind her, Kim and Shepard leveled their weapons, scanning the distance. On the side, Toombs watched her work, doing his best to keep himself together.

"Teddy should still be inside. He should've-" He's cut off. The bullet hit a half-second before the sound reached them, dropping the marine where he stood, shields eviscerated and the armor on his back rended.

Shepard's in shock. They all are, and by the time what happened registered in their head, another shot is fired, catching Kim in his head. His visor erupted, blood flying as his body collapsed.

The door slid open, "INSIDE!" Jessica tugged Shepard along, but not before the sniper fired again, catching Jessica in her arm, tearing it off from the elbow down. The door shut before they could get off another, but the damage was done. Jessica sat there, free hand against her wound, blood already pooling beneath her. Shepard let the brief bit of medical training he had take over, working through the blood to staunch the blood as best he could, his mind straining as he did.

It was as if he were a rubber band, being pulled tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until he was shaking and threatening to snap. In reality, he was shaking, hands trembling as he finished, staring at Jessica. Her glasses were gone. In the moonlight, she was pale, paler than she'd ever been. Her breathing was heavy, and sweat beaded her face. Despite that, when she looked at him, her eyes were focused.

"Up... upstairs, you'll find a console with its wires exposed. Get to it."

He nodded, stood, and bounded up the stairs. On the second floor and down the hall, he stepped into the comms room, the console Jessica described in full view and beside it, Teddy, slumped against the wall in a pool of blood, dead.

The rubber band started to tear at the sides, piece by wretched piece snapping, putting more and more of a burden on those that remained.

"I'm here, Jess. What next?"

"Teddy, he... he had a brilliant idea of putting our programs in there, hidden behind one another. If one failed, then the other might still have a chance on getting through whatever bugged the system... If... if he's there, a copy should be on his omni-tool."

"He's... Right." Shepard turned, looking to his dead friend. Emotion threatened to overwhelm him, but somehow, he stayed ahead. He pulled off his omni-tool and connected it to his own - immediately, the program in question popped up. He had been messing with it, right until the moment he died. "I have it, Jess."

"Good, good... Activate it. Send word to The Saint. Tell them... tell them..."

"Hang on for just a little while longer, Jess! They'll be here before you know it!"

Quickly, Shepard activated the program. It lit up and the console followed shortly afterwards, restoring comms. Shepard connected to them immediately, "This is Corporal Shepard of Red Team, broadcasting to all Alliance ships. Saint, are you there? Over."

Immediately, a man spoke back. "We're here, Corporal. What's going on down there? We haven't received a report si-"

"Our team was set upon by monsters." Shepard said, cutting him off. "Giant, worm-like creatures impervious to small arms and an enemy sniper, position unknown. Levi Team and Del Team have been lost to them. Blue Team has suffered heavy losses, and my team is down to myself and one other. We're requesting immediate evac and support. Over."

"R-Right. Help is on the way, Corporal! Stay alive! We'll get you all out of there!"

Shepard bowed his head; on his HUD, the life signs of his team were broadcast to the bottom left corner of his visor.  
Jessica's flat-lined.

".. Locksley, this is Shepard." Head still bowed, he spoke into his omni-tool. In the quiet of the building, he didn't hear any distant gunshots. He prayed that it was just because he was too far away to hear them. "The Saint is sending an evac shuttle. Are you there? Over."

No response. He closed his eyes and clenched his free hand into a fist. "Locksley, come in?"

Silence. No static, no anything. "Anybody...? Please..."

Nothing.  
He was alone.

* * *

Shepard sat alone in the medical bay, staring out the window. Akuze was gone, replaced by the lights of FTL as The Saint flew toward Arcturus Station. The doctor that had been there with him left after his evaluation, declaring him free of any serious physical injury. It didn't matter. None of it did.

Each beat of his heart felt like a stab in his side, each breath that he took never being enough to ease the ache in his chest. He felt as if his soul had been torn apart, like he was bleeding from a wound that refused to close, spilling all that he was to be claimed just as his family had been, leaving a husk of the man that he used to be.

It hurt so much. Every thought, every memory, it was like lighting his nerves on fire. He'd rather that, wished for it in place of what he felt then, would've rather he die the most horrific death possible than see those closest to him slaughtered, and live to tell the tale.

He'd cry if he could. He had, for hours, on the shuttle, being walked to the medical bay as people lined the halls to watch him, and even as he gave his report. Shepard cried, and cried, and cried some more, but now? He had no more tears left to spill. No more reports left to tell. Only regret, pain, and hatred. Hatred for the monsters that stole the lives of good, earnest people. Hatred for the sniper responsible for gunning down his family. Hatred for himself, for not being able to save them, for wishing he had gotten shot and died with the rest of them.

For thinking that he had changed.  
He hadn't changed. 

The Universe wouldn't punish a good person, someone who changed for the better. People had bad days, but this? It went beyond justification, beyond normal explanation. He had thought himself better, had even tricked other people into thinking he was good, and this was the response. A reminder that no matter what he did, the blood that stained his hands wasn't just. The lives that he had ruined and the potential that he had robbed would forever be lost, no matter how he tried to make up for it. How else could you explain what happened? Why else would he be the only one to live, one marine out of fifty-one?

He closed his eyes and saw his friends death, his family slaughtered in some of the worst ways possible.  
The rubber band - no, his mind, snapped, taking with it the best part of himself.

Someone knocked on the door; he opened his eyes and in the reflection on the glass, he didn't see a man staring back at him, but a monster. 

_"Finally," it seemed to say. "You recognize us for what we are."_

Someone knocked again, more deliberate this time.

"Enter."

The door opened. He turned in his chair just in time to see an old man hobble into the room. He didn't think much of it until he saw his uniform, counting the stars and stripes on it. A Colonel. He moved to stand, but the man waved him off.

"At ease, Corporal. You don't need to be standing for this."

The old man sat, studying him without word or regard. It continued like that for a few minutes before Shepard opened his mouth. But before he could speak, the Colonel continued. "Akuze changed you. You're not the same kid from the posters No... you don't have the same light in your eyes."

Shepard was silent, both curious and angry. He wanted to lash out. The Colonel must've sensed it, because he smiled - a vicious, almost sadistic thing, lacking any kind of warmth. "I'm here to offer you an opportunity, Shepard. Seeing as you're without a team and likely to get discharged, I suggest you hear what I have to say."

When Shepard didn't respond, the Colonel smiled again, and continued.

"Our war against the Batarians and other scum that aided the assault against Elysium is coming to a head. It's not enough to repel their attacks and scout out their supply lines. No, we need something more definitive. Something that's sure to bring the bastards to their knees, and with a bit more after that, bring to heel. That's where you'd come in, and the new team you'll have."

"Should you accept, effective immediately, you'll be promoted to the rank of Staff Sergeant. You'll be given your pick of an elite crop of soldiers for a team ran by yourself, answering only to me, given free reigns to do as you see fit to bring about our goals - so long as those actions are limited to Alliance space and the Traverse, of course."

"You wouldn't have to worry about getting discharged. I'd handle that... if you accepted." He smiled again. "So what do you say, Corporal? Will you answer the call?"

He stared long and hard, but really, there was no doubt in either of their mind what his answer would be.

"I accept."

Somehow, the Colonel's grin was even more terrible than his smile. He let it show in full, "Congratulations, Staff Sergeant Shepard. You might just bring a quicker end to the Batarian threat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate the comments you guys leave. It's always heartwarming seeing people reading this and enjoying it. It's fun for me, and I'm glad it is for y'all too.


	6. No Rest For The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True to his word, "the Colonel" ensured Shepard remained in the military and got his pick of soldiers for his new squad. Now, after a year of operation, they touch down on the moon home to the criminals that set him down this path: Torfan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After finishing this chapter, I felt the need to put a trigger warning for it:
> 
> This chapter contains violence not typical to the game. Though not explicit, it can still be a bit heavy. For those who choose to skip over it, I'll include a summary in the end notes so that you're still aware of Shepard and his mind state for this chapter, since it is important for future chapters.

Tartarus.  
That's what the Alliance had taken to calling his squad.

Officially, they were without a name, or existence for that matter. A nameless group filled with faceless soldiers, identified neither by rank or name, but code. Shepard? Hades. Every single one of them knew who he was despite it, having seen his face on the posters and in the same ads that made them enlist in the first place. But Shepard didn't know anything more than their code-names and skill set.

Learning names? Becoming friends? He didn't do that anymore. Not since Akuze. 

It was safer that way. Made the missions easier, and making the hard choices anything but. He couldn't get hurt when they died if he kept that barrier up - and they did die. Sometimes mistakes happened, bad intel leading to dicey missions. Other times, he had to sacrifice a few to complete the mission. But it was the price of war, of bringing it to an end, and making sure the Batarians would sooner destroy themselves than even think about messing with the Alliance.

It was because that price had been paid that in a years time, he stood where he was, why they all stood where they were. Tartarus Squad funneled out onto the ground, their shuttle lifting up and burning off, disappearing into the night sky. Shepard turned when it disappeared, gazing out into the distance. It was not unlike Mars in appearance, red sand and dust as far as the eye could see.

Torfan: An ugly moon with an ugly name, home to the Batarians and mercenaries who planned and spearheaded the attack on Elysium.

In a way, it was their actions that pushed Shepard into hell. That killed everyone he cared about and who cared for him in the worst way possible. If they hadn't attacked Elysium, none of those deaths would've happened. He closed his eyes for a second, gathering himself. When he opened them, he zeroed in on a village in the distance, visor zooming in and giving him a clear view of a couple of Batarians loitering about.

"Small village southwest, twenty clicks out. I'm seeing Batarians, but no obvious firearms. That's our target."

He drew his rifle, his trusted Lancer, modified with a holo-scope and shredder rounds. He glanced behind him, watching ten other soldiers do the same, awaiting his command.

"We get there and surround it. Once in position, hold. We'll move in on my command." He started southwest, continuing. "If any spot you, kill them. We can't risk alerting the rest."

Despite the distance, it didn't take them long to reach the village. It took even less for him to get in position, laid out just behind the crest of a dune, positioned so that he could see the Batarians sitting just a few yards from him, but they couldn't see him. He lined up his shot with the furthest of the pair, resting a finger on the trigger.

His comm buzzed, "Mad-Eye, in position."  
"Perseus, in position."  
"Valkyrie, in position."

The Batarians laughed, their conversation lost to the wind. His eye twitched; the last of his team checked in, and the moment the confirmation came, he squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed, the Batarian dropped, losing his mind to the wall behind him. His friend stared, stunned.

"Shots fired," Shepard barked into his comms, taking down the next before he continued. "Consider them armed and dangerous. Move in and take out any who resist."

* * *

When he had first learned that he'd be working with the legendary John Shepard, Garrick had been ecstatic. 

Like Shepard, he was a kid from the street. He had grown up amongst the worst of society, had been complicit in things that turned his stomach, and joined up with the Alliance because he heard his story. A month after Elysium, in-between missions, reporters had finally caught up with the marine, and asked for his story.

He had been embarrassed, but earnest. He spoke of where he came from, been honest about his reasons for joining the military. He never spoke in specifics about the things he did, but Garrick recognized the look in his eyes. That ten-yard stare that spoke when Shepard wouldn't. He saw it for what it was and knowing of his heroics, he felt inspired.

He signed up that same day, and was leaving Earth a week later.

Garrick worked hard and performed as best he could. He never had an Elysium, never even came close to something like Akuze, but command recognized him regardless. He earned his awards and his promotions, so when he saw that it was Shepard who carried the code-name Hades, he thought that was it. He had earned his place beside his inspiration, his hero.

But Shepard... Shepard wasn't a hero.  
He was anything but.

There since the inception of Tartarus, Garrick had born witness to the things that never made it to the papers. The truth of who Shepard was - no, of who he had become. Akuze had changed him. Others who knew him before often spoke of it, and after working together, Garrick believed it. He had seen how he operated, had somehow lived through all their missions, one of the few of the original ten who had.

Shepard was inhumane in every sense of the word. Broken, angry, and seeking revenge above anything else, no matter the cost.

Garrick had excused it before. No matter how he was, Shepard still fought the enemy. Though questionable in method, he still took out people who sought to harm humanity. But standing there on Torfan with his fellow soldiers, staring at a village of Batarians kneeling before them, there was no question of whether or not their actions were just.

He stood there, a single man amongst ten, disgusted, afraid, and praying that something, someone intervened in what he knew was about to happen. But he knew better than most that real life wasn't like the movies. There was no hero there to save them at the last moment, to stop them from committing murder.

As Shepard paced before the group, Garrick steeled himself. A rule for operating with Tartarus was always that you kept your camera off. As far as he knew, everyone had abided by that rule. No one wanted to damn themselves, after all. But as Shepard turned away, Garrick flicked his on, staring ahead afterwards.

There was no stopping it...  
But he could make it so that it never happened again.

* * *

"One of you knows where the Batarians built their base." Shepard paced before the group, Lancer on his back, and a Predator pistol in his hand. "Well, all of you do, I'm sure, but one of you will say something."

Beyond the occasional sniffle, silence greeted him. Their raid of the village hadn't been near as clean as one would've hoped. The Batarians had truly been armed, and while none of their squad had died, wounds had been sustained, and aliens had to be put down. The rest had given up quickly after that - or at the very least, stopped resisting. It made it easier gathering them all and putting them in the square. There, all but two of their squad surrounded them, one of the missing soldiers treating the other.

All in all, it had taken less than ten minutes to complete.  
Still too long for Shepard's taste.

He stopped pacing, "I've been lenient, but even my patience wears thin. Someone answer my question. Now."

Silence continued to greet him.

"No? Fine." He lifted his pistol and fired; the Batarian closest to him dropped, a woman, causing the crowd to scream, and his soldiers to jump.

"Jesus," A soldier off to his right exclaimed.

"Stay in position, marines. If they move, shoot them." Shepard glared at the group, his expression cold. "I've got enough to kill every single one of you. If value your life, or your family and friends life, then I suggest you answer me. Where. Are. The bases?"

An older Batarian cursed, the word not translating. "- human scum! We were protecting ourselves! We didn't-" Another shot, and he stopped shouting.

"Honestly," Shepard began. "I can do this all day."

"Malak," cried a Batarian woman. "There's one north in Malak! Another eight miles east of that one! They're underground, with entrances hidden all over the villages!"

Shepard smiled and holstered his pistol, "See? That wasn't so hard."

Some villagers sobbed, others glared at him, but all quickly turned to panic once he pulled free his Lancer.

"Execute them."

"No," the crowd cried. "Please, we've surrendered!"

The soldiers around him were stunned, "They've given up, Hades... We can take them in as prisoners."

"These people are terrorist. There's no telling how much harm they've done beyond Elysium or how much they will do if given a chance. They're a threat, and you've been given a direct order, soldier. Execute them!"

The villagers wailed. Some stood, preparing to run. Shepard didn't give them the chance, firing. He couldn't tell when the others joined, but soon, all of them had, lighting up the village square and mowing down the villagers. It only lasted a few minutes, but when it ended, the air was thick with the scent of blood, the sand soaked with it. Tartarus Squad stared, shocked as the full weight of what happened started to come down on them.

Shepard was unfazed, holstering his rifle. "Let's clear out, marines. Command needs to know about the bases."

He departed, heading back toward the pickup zone. Slowly, his squad followed, all but one filtering out of the village, more than eager to try and put the sight of their sins behind them. Only Garrick stayed behind, trembling, and bringing a hand up to switch his camera off.

_"No more..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed since Akuze with Shepard leading a black ops squad dubbed "Tartarus." It's through their missions that the Alliance learns that Torfan is where criminals responsible for the Skyllian Blitz reside, though without their exact locations. He leads his squad there and raids a village in hopes of finding out where the aforementioned bases are. After killing a number of Batarians, a few of which were from post them surrendering, they give him the bases location, and he he orders his squad to execute them. They do so and depart.
> 
> Unbeknownst to him, a member of Tartarus Squad - Garrick - recorded the entire thing, intent on ensuring that that mission is the last Shepard will ever be on.


	7. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard faces the music.

Tartarus Squad might've identified a possible location for the bases, but it took another week of recon to confirm what they discovered:

Two separate bases, both running deep underground, and home to slavers, mercs, and everything in-between. Scans showed structures that were fifteens stories deep, split between training areas, housing, and command centers, not unlike a standard military base, and just as defended as one. In short, taking down even one base would be difficult, and they had to do both. Casualties would be high. A lot of marines going in would never come back out.

Reading the reports, Shepard knew that, and he knew the Alliance needed every soldier they could get.  
So one could begin to understand his confusion about receiving orders to leave Torfan and head to the nearest Alliance station, the only marine on his squad, out of everyone on the moon, to get them.

Nerves weren't something he felt often, but they plagued him the entire flight there. He sat in the shuttle, head bowed, and his hands fidgeting together. "Do they need me on another assignment? What could be more important than Torfan?" He thought.

Beside the pilot, no one else was there with him. His answer would have to come once he landed.

It didn't take them long to reach the station. Though not as grand as Arcturus, it was still a sight to behold: it stood against a backdrop of blue with streaks of white, the gas giant behind it nothing more than a swirl of methane and ice. The station itself was a hub of activity, Alliance ships flying to and from it, presumably with more troops bound for Torfan. His shuttle flew in right alongside them, entering and touching down in a hangar near the top of the station.

The pilot glanced back at him, "We've landed, Staff Sergeant."

"Right." Shepard stood, straightening his button-down. Dressed in his formal attire, complete with his navy blue slacks, dark blue jacket, and the Star of Terra pinned to his chest, he thought it best to make a good impression on whoever he was meeting. "Thanks."

He walked out the shuttle, stepping out into the hangar. A soldier recognized him immediately, stepping forward with a cheesy smile and salute. "Staff Sergeant, welcome! I'm Private Hellsing! I was told to lead you to the upper levels!"

Shepard paused at his name, but eventually nodded. "Lead the way, soldier."

His guide nodded and turned, heading out the hangar. Shepard followed. Around them, soldiers and base-personal alike recognized him as he passed. More often than not, he caught a flash of excitement, show of respect, or flirty smile. He ignored it all, focusing ahead. The longer he walked, the more suspect the situation felt. Short of the Alliance finding Elanos Haliat himself, he couldn't gleam a reason for him needing to be there. That feeling only intensified once he reached the upper levels; the soldier excused himself, leaving Shepard to walk alone down the hall and into the lone room on the level.

There, through the doors, a secretary sat. She flashed him a smile, but unlike those that came before, it was but a professional courtesy. "Staff Sergeant Shepard, welcome. She's been expecting you."

He felt a twinge of annoyance, "She who?"

Her smile widened ever so slightly. "You can head right in."

He stared at her, but after a few seconds, relented. Something was definitely wrong. For a split-second, he considered running. He could be down the hall in less than a minute, but what then? He runs through a station filled with Alliance personnel? No, there was only one way through, and it was forward. He opened his mind to every possibility, steeled himself, and walked forward, pushing through the door.

On the other side was an office. Behind the desk wasn't a wall, but glass. It cast the entire room in the blue light of the planet behind the station, giving it an almost ethereal appearance. Seated at the desk itself was a woman, her black hair pulled back into a bun, features cast in orange from the data pad she held in her hand. But more important than all of that was the bars on her uniform, clearly marking her rank as General, and the nameplate that sat on her desk: **_General Zhou_**.

Shepard snapped to attention, head high and his stomach falling through the floor. "Staff Sergeant John Shepard, reporting for duty." Why was a General calling for him of all people?

She didn't respond. Instead, she scrolled through the data pad. With each minute spent reading, her expression grew harder until eventually, she grunted in disgust. She looked at him, and that same look held true, second only to the pity in her eyes. "At ease, Shepard. Take a seat."

He relaxed, if only just. Cautiously, he sat in the only chair available, the one directly across from her. He's slow, unsure, and it showed. He didn't know whether to speak or to wait, uncomfortable beneath her gaze.

The silence was heavy.  
She was the first to break it.

"Shepard," She said. "Do you know why you're here?"

His mouth felt dry. "I don't, ma'am."

"Hm... Doubtful." She tossed the data pad toward him. It landed perfectly in front of him. "Press play, Staff Sergeant."

Even from where he sat, he could recognize what was on screen. His fingers felt like lead, but he still moved them. She gave him a direct order, and he followed it, picking up the pad and pressing play.

From who's point of view the recording was from, he didn't know, but what it showed wasn't something he could doubt. It was him, and the rest of Tartarus Squad, on Torfan. In the village they raided. He didn't need to watch it to know what he said, and what he did. When the shooting started, he paused the video, tossing the pad back onto the desk and staring at the ground. He felt sick. Not because of what he did, but because he got caught. Because of what he knew this meant.

Zhou watched him the entire time, frowning all the while. "Your helmets are on, and your visors tinted. You even used code names... but it's not the only evidence against you." She motioned toward the pad. "Names, dates, list, other missions, pictures. Somehow, it's all there. Even the name of the dumbass who sanctioned it all."

She stood from her seat, hands held behind her back, and looking down at him. "You're to be discharged and court marshaled, effective immediately."

He felt as if the ground had opened up beneath him and was swallowing him whole. He couldn't breathe, much less defend himself. This was how his story ended. After all that he worked for, after all that he been through.

 _"Haven't I suffered enough?"_

"... at least, that's what I'd like to say." All at once, the world came back into focus. He continued staring at the ground, hopeful despite it all. "In truth, it's too big of an embarrassment for the Alliance, and too much fuel for our opposition. Our poster boy, the supposed 'golden standard', a war criminal. The Council would have a field day with that."

She continued looking down at him and again, pity flashed in her eyes. "You suffered after Akuze. What you needed then was help, not another mission, and sure as hell not another squad to command. Still, the things you've done can't be ignored, both the bad and the good."

"You're being transferred back to Earth." Not a question, but a statement. One with no room left for argument or doubt. "There, you'll aid in guarding our main base. The rest of your duties will be explained to you by your new C.O. Until then, you'll remain here on station. Is that clear?"

Whether by luck or fate, he had avoided the worst. But Earth? Being pulled from Torfan when he was needed most? How much scum would escape because he wasn't there to put them down? How could his friends rest knowing that those responsible for their early graves still lived, and he wasn't there to change that? How could he?

"I won't repeat myself, Staff Sergeant."

His hand shook with resentment, his displeasure clear, but he looked up at her in spite of it. "Yes, ma'am." The words tasted bitter in his mouth.


	8. Welcome Back to Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard runs into some unfamiliar faces and gets in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for disappearing. I ended up getting extremely sick and once I recovered, didn't feel up for writing. That's changed though.
> 
> Chapter Eight is here and I hope y'all enjoy it! Comments are always appreciated. I plan to have another chapter out before the week is.

A familiar skyline stood in the distance, lights as brilliant as the night he had left for the Alliance Training station. Shepard stood on the roof of the base, resting on his forearms, gazing out upon it, a brief respite from his new reality.

It had been two years to the day since he had been transferred to Earth, back to where it all began. When the shuttle that brought him there first descended through the clouds, he damn near panicked. The Slums in which he grew up in could be seen clear as day from up on high, and from the base, less than a three-hour walk for someone who knew the back alleys as he did.

Being so close had bothered him at first, had made a job he abhorred harder than it needed to be. But after twenty-four months of living there and dozens of trips into the city, the fear lost its hold. Now? Now he only suffered the plight of being someone overqualified for the job he was given.

"The great John Shepard, a glorified guard." He chuckled without humor. "Look at me, Toombs... After everything, I'm back where I started."

Suddenly, he needed a drink. Or seven.

Despite how much he hated his job, he was afforded a few small measures of freedom. The Base Commander turned out to be a big fan of his, being one of the superiors whom he saved back on Elysium. He didn't know the reason behind John being there under his command and he never questioned him about it either. Instead, during his off time, he allowed Shepard to head off base and into the city alone, a privilege reserved for him and him alone.

He used it then, heading off the roof and through the base, ignoring the waves and nods from passerby's. He hated it, hated them. He'd rather be on a field fighting than in the halls he was in, walking past politicians and rookies both, forced to endure their gawking and their incessant demands to hear his story.

It was all he could do to get off the base without snapping at someone, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as patrols and saluting officers were replaced by cars and civilians who knew his name, but not his face. Dressed in combat fatigues and a white tee, he was but another off-duty soldier, commonplace in where he was stationed. Most people didn't give him a second look.

He traversed familiar streets and within a couple of short hours, sat in a bar, drink in hand, and a pleasant buzz humming in his skull. He listened to it, even started humming along, waving for the bartender to bring him another round after throwing his current one back, an elderly man who eyed him with more than just a hint of curiosity.

In the state that he was in, if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine his squad sitting around him, laughing and horsing around. Kim off in a corner, chatting up some man or woman that he'd disappear with until it was time to go. Toombs sitting right beside him, singing some song that he always butchered, words too slurred to do the lyrics justice. Lucy hovered over him, rolling her eyes, trying and failing to hide her smile as she took his drink away. Triss whining about an old lover name Feralt, swearing that her best friend ruined their relationship. Chuck on stage, singing an old western that somehow made western music sound good. Jessica and Teddy sitting with each other, smiling and holding hands because they thought no one could see them - always holding hands.

He could almost hear them - smiling, laughing, living. But then he remembered, and the drinks he had weren't enough, so he waved the bartender for more, chasing his pain with a burning in his throat and numbness following soon after, hoping that it consumed him whole.

This was how he spent most of his nights. He, the great John Shepard, losing himself to his drink in a shitty bar.

"Well, I'll be damned..."

Heavy feet shuffled behind him, the telltale scrape of chairs letting him know multiple people sat on either side of him long before their bodies entered his peripherals. He scowled, holding his drink halfway up to his mouth, glancing at the men too close for comfort. They all stared at him in disbelief, like someone who couldn't believe who they were seeing.

"If you're looking for a damn autograph, fuck off." He downed the rest of his drink, the bartender moving to bring him another even before he got his wave off. "I'm off-duty."

The men beside him chuckled. The one closest to his right, a man with a scar running over a milky eye, leaned forward. "Now, John, is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"No friend of mine," He said. "They all died a long time ago."

"I'm sure you'd like that... considering how you abandoned us and all. But the Reds don't forget."

All at once, Shepard felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His buzz faded to the background, adrenaline flooding his veins as he realized just who had sat beside him, and what it meant. Not Frank, but clearly someone who knew him, and what he did. Was his old boss far behind? Did he have the place surrounded, or was he waiting at some hideout, prepared and eager to torture Shepard for running away.

He halfway feigned drunkenness, grabbing the last drink set down by the bartender.

"Look," He began. "I don't want any trouble. I just want to finish my drink."

One-Eye snarled, "You should've thought about that before you betrayed us, bastard."

"He's here like I said." The bartender had a rag in hand, cleaning out a glass. "Before you do anything else, I want my credits."

"You'll get it, Gramps." The man beside One-Eye stood, pulling out a card. At the same time, One-Eye made a move for Shepard's drink, trying to slap it out of his hands. Instead of making him go through the effort, Shepard decided to bring it to him.

His hand snapped up, grabbing One-Eye's forearm and yanking him downward, bringing up the glass into his good eye at the same time. It shattered on impact, No-Eyes screamed, and all hell broke loose.

The other Reds shouted in alarm, scrambling out of their seats and going for their Predators. Shepard was faster, moving with the strength and purpose of a trained killer. He snapped to the closest one to his left, grabbing him, and hurling him at the last one to his right. As both men went crashing in a heap, he kicked off the ground, closing the distance between himself and the last in a single bound.

He got his Predator out, but Shepard grabbed his wrist and forced it skyward, causing the first shot to go wild. He snapped his wrist before he got off the second, bringing his free hand up for a swift punch to his throat, bringing him down. Behind him, No-Eyes kept screaming, and the other two men scrambled to get back to their feet. Shepard picked up the pistol and let loose two, quick shots, bringing them both down for good. A third put a stop to No-Eyes' screaming and the fourth, for the man who owned the pistol.

All in all, it took less than three minutes.

Shepard stood there, surrounded by death, bodies, and blood. And as he did, looking at the occupants who hadn't run and hid instead, the only thing he regretted was not finishing that last drink.

"... how much was I worth, Gramps?" Shepard turned, facing the bartender. He cowered behind the bar, face pale, and tears in his eyes. "A couple hundred thousand, right? Had to be. Can't imagine anything less being worth dying for for someone like you. Not that it matters now."

Shepard leveled the Predator; the bartender cried, "P-Please...! I have a family!"

"You should've thought about them before you crossed me."

Shepard pulled the trigger - almost, rather. But before he could, the doors behind him busted open, and he heard multiple guns cock. "Freeze! CCPD! Drop the gun and put your hands up where I can see them!"

He grunted, halfway in annoyance, halfway in frustration. He glared at the bartender and for a split-second, he considered pulling the trigger anyway. Pulling the trigger and killing him, even if it meant being killed himself. But in the end, he relented, letting the Predator fall to the ground, sporting a twisted smile.

"Guess it's your lucky d-"

The officers tackled him, sending him face-first into a pool of blood. He spat as they cuffed him, hauling him to his feet and leading him toward the door, already imagining the shit he'd have to eat for what happened.

How the hell was he going to get out of this?


	9. Tenth Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard goes through an unwelcomed interview.

Strangely enough, until that day, Shepard had never been in handcuffs before, much less in an actual jail.

He sat alone at a table, fiddling with his handcuffs. They were uncomfortable, having been tightened to the point of pinching his skin, and without enough freedom for him to do more than sit up straight or make the pain worse. Across from him, beside the door to the room, an officer stood guard - a short, chubby man fitted with a vest and with a hand on his gun. He stared at Shepard and for a while, Shepard stared back. How did he look to him? Like a psychopath? Like a deranged killer? The fact that his frontside was still covered in blood probably didn't help matters.

For all intents and purposes, he should've been thrown in a cell, but he hadn't. He had been brought there. He didn't understand until the door opened and a man stepped through, tall, with slick hair, a stereotypical trenchcoat, and a folder in hand.

"John," He said. "Can I call you John? Sorry about the wait. I'm Detective King. You mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The Detective sat before Shepard responded, setting the folder down in-between them. Shepard didn't even spare it a glance, focusing on him instead. Seeing that, the Detective paused for a split-second, and laughed afterwards.

"God, you look scary as hell right now. If I didn't know me any better, I'd say you were sizing me up."

He had a hard time not rolling his eyes, "Why am I here, Detective?"

"You're here," He began. "Because you killed four men in a bar not even an hour ago. Because you would've killed a fifth if my officers weren't there to stop you."

Shepard squinted his eyes; sensing his displeasure, the Detective raised a hand. "But according to witnesses, they attacked you first. You were defending yourself. And considering your record, hell, remembering Akuze,-" Shepard clenched his fist. "-it's no wonder you reacted the way you did. I'm sure a jury would agree with that too if that's why we ended up taking you to trial."

The Detective paused again, almost as though he was expecting Shepard to entertain him, and question him again. He refused, making a conscious effort to relax his fist and his body. He wasn't going to play his game, whatever it was.

When Shepard didn't respond, the Detective sighed. "You're no fun..." He slid the folder forward. "I'm sure this will get a response though."

He stared at the folder, hesitated for a few fleeting seconds. Curiosity won out in him though. He spared a glance at the Detective before pulling it closer and flipping it open. He didn't understand what he saw at first - police reports, criminal profiles, and other things. But the more he flipped through, the more he started to realize just what it was he was looking at, and the connection between it all.

"You grew up around here, John. I'm sure you know what kind of hell it is for those not lucky enough to be born on top."

Each page was a report on the Reds: surveillance, arrest, sightings of the upper tier of members. The deeper he went, the more detailed it became until eventually, they began singling out individual people.

"I was born down here too, y'know. It was hard enough for my family and I to try to make something of ourselves with the deck stacked against us..."

Justin, the man who trained Shepard after he got into the game. Allen, the lieutenant who Shepard replaced after his promotion. Frank, the leader of their operation, and...

"So I'm sure you can understand how much hate I have for the bastard that introduced Red Sand to my parents."

Him. John Shepard.  
It was just a couple of pages, but there was enough. Dealings that he had, times and places that no one but a Red should've known about, and confessions from an anonymous member of the gang. Reading it, Shepard felt a hole akin to the one he felt meeting with Zhou grow beneath him. He had to palm the table to steady himself, suddenly all too aware of the grin the Detective had on his face despite not looking at him. He could hear it in his voice.

"This... This isn't...-"

"It's enough," King said. "Enough to warrant a trial, and to get the Alliance to agree to turn you over into our custody. These crimes were committed before you enlisted, after all."

He felt sick. He looked up at the Detective, not at all surprised to see the smug grin on his face. He could only stare as he stood and turned to the officer behind him, "Take John to a cell. I'm sure he'll want time to think about how fucked he is."

The officer wasted no time in complying and despite a brief debate on whether or not to fight back, Shepard didn't. It was just like his visit with Zhou, only this time, there was no miraculous save waiting for him at the end. No record or list of achievements, no matter how good, would save him from the vengeance of King, from the weight of his mistakes, from the punishment the Universe saw fit to constantly beat him down with.

As he was led through the station, all he could do was stare ahead, somewhere between numbness and panic, like a passenger on a plane he saw racing toward the ground.

He's led into a cell and there, his handcuffs were removed and the door shut, closing with a finality that made him feel as though he had just chocked down a rock. He stood there, staring ahead, but not too lost to not notice the chuckling behind him.

He turned, and as he saw just who sat behind him, Shepard felt like a hopeless situation had become a hundred times worse, freezing like a deer in headlights. He was older, pudgier, but carried that same stench, had that same unhinged look in his eyes.

"Johnny." Frank 'The Boss' grinned, revealing a mouth full of crooked, yellow teeth. "Welcome back to Tenth Street."


	10. A New Path, A Better Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard meets with an old acquaintance.

"Frank," Shepard said, the name like bad milk against his tongue. "You shouldn't be here.

"And why not?" Frank wore a shit-eating grin, unnerving, and refusing to falter. "You and me are cut from the same damn cloth, Johnny. People like us always end up here or in a early grave."

"I'm not like you," He declared, leaning back against the cell door because he didn't trust his legs to keep him standing. "You're a murderer, a criminal, a-"

"And what the hell are you, huh?!" Suddenly, Frank's on his feet and glaring, the same mad titan that he was in Shepard's youth. He remembers the abuse, old wounds that had long since healed and those that didn't hurting again, feeling the same fear. "You think because you ran away, because you joined the damn military, you're some kinda saint!? Don't forget, Johnny! You were dealin' just like we were! You killed, same as us! Or did you forget the hole you put in Trent's head?!"

He has no response, though desperate to give one, to put up some kind of defense against the blows raining down on him.

"You're a damn coward," Frank barked. "A little bitch, too scared to do what needed to be done then, and too scared to face reality now. Wake the fuck up, Johnny! You ain't no different from me!"

"I'm... I'm not like you..."

Frank chuckled, "Nah... You're worse." He took three steps forward, continuing. "Always the victim. Can always justify the choices you made, the things you did. It's never your fault, right? You're just tryin' to survive in a universe that's out to get you."

But a single yard stood between them; Shepard closed his eyes and clenched his fist, too scared to look Frank in his eyes, terrified of what he might see looking back at him.

But almost as though he had a sixth sense tuned for Shepard specifically, Frank demanded otherwise. "Open your damn eyes, Johnny. Look at me."

He didn't want to listen, but he did. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at Frank, looking down at a man who seemed taller than he had ever been before, and just as untouchable. In his eyes, he saw the same man that Frank was eight years ago, but more important than that, he saw himself. Just as bitter, just as jaded, and everything he told himself that he wasn't.

_"I'm not like you."_

He couldn't even speak the words.  
He slid down the door and sat on the ground, suddenly too weak to stand even with its support. 

Frank looked down at him and laughed, "Yeah, that's what I thought." He returned to his seat across from him, still laughing, the sound of it echoing through Shepard's head. He buried his head in his knees, hugged them to him, but still, he heard it, just as distressing as the man it belonged to.

* * *

Less than week had passed since his arrest.

Frank had disappeared a few days into his stay. Where he had been taken, Shepard didn't know, but he couldn't be grateful for the lack of his presence. The words he said, the mark he made, it was there even if he wasn't, digging into him, torturing him. The fact that Detective King visited him thrice a day only made it worse, pulling him back into some interrogation room, always trying to get information or a confession out of him, and when that failed, mocking and reminding him that his life was over.

But on that day, things were different.

Shepard sat on a bench in his cell in an orange jumpsuit, head resting against clasped hands. His headache was back, and that meant Frank's laughter was too, a constant echo that never ceased to drive him mad. It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn't bashed his head against a wall, but even that wasn't too far off while he sat there. But before he could chase the thought, his cell door opened.

He sighed, "I don't have anything to say to you, King."

"Shut up," The detective barked, his scowl apparent even before Shepard looked up and saw it. "On your feet, John. You've got a visitor."

He stood, but hesitated. A visitor? The entire time that he was there, not even the Alliance had sent someone to talk to him. No call had been allowed, no lawyer had been present, nothing but his time with Frank, with King, and his cell. He followed when King turned and walked though, curiosity getting the better of him. Anyone who could put King in a bad mood was someone he wanted to meet, even if just to thank them for it.

But the man he saw when he was led past the interrogation room and into the visitors room went beyond his wildest guesses, shocked to a standstill when he rose from his seat.

Standing before him with the faintest of smiles on his face was David Anderson, warmth in his eyes, and the bars on his uniform gleaming in the light.

"Shepard," He said, stepping forward to shake his hand. "It's damn good to see you, son."

"C-Captain Anderson," He hesitated, but eventually shook his hand, stunned. "Why are you here...?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he looked to King who was glowering at the door. "If you'll be so kind, Detective, we'll need our privacy. That means shutting off the cameras too."

King muttered to himself while he left. Anderson waited a few more seconds. When the camera beeped, he motioned toward to table. "Have a seat, Shepard."

Anderson sat down, and after a couple of seconds, Shepard did as well. Neither of them said anything at first, both of them unsure how to begin. But in the end, it was Anderson who spoke first.

"I won't lie to you, Shepard. I debated coming here. Alliance brass even warned against it."

His heart sunk in his chest, "Then, with all due respect, sir... why did you?"

"Because," he said. "I needed to hear the story for myself. The whole story." He looked Shepard in the eyes, but unlike King, unlike Frank, unlike so many who had come before, it was without greed, anger, caution, or infatuation. Pity, disgust, hate, or calculation. It was with concern. Genuine concern. "Start at the beginning."

Maybe that was why the moment Anderson asked, Shepard started talking.  
He told him everything, from his time with the Reds to the night of his enlistment. From his training days to the Skyllian Blitz. From Akuze to Torfan. From being sent Earth to that very second. He stammered through some parts, even teared up when he recounted others. But he held nothing back, and refused to tell Anderson a single lie. When he finally finished, both men were silent.

Just like before, Anderson was the one to break it.

"My God..." He shook his head, almost as though he had trouble believing it. "All of that...? And you..."

Shepard bowed his head, not in self-pity, but disgust. Hearing Anderson's response, he felt lesser. This was only there second conversation with one another and yet, the thought of disappointing him, of disgusting him hurt him. 

But Anderson was never one to sit on his thoughts. "The fact that you're still standing here after all you've been through... It's a goddamn miracle, son."

"Or maybe, it's a testament to you."

Stunned, Shepard looked up at him. It wasn't disgust he saw in Anderson's face, but sadness. Guilt.

"This isn't what I wanted for you, Shepard. Not Torfan, not Akuze, none of it. What you suffered was terrible, what you did was terrible." Anderson paused, almost as though he was questioning himself. "But not beyond redemption."

Like a burning match in the dark, the words that Anderson spoke lit up something in him. It was small, flickering, and but an exhale from being blown out, but it was there.

"When I first spoke to you, looking at you in that hospital bed, I saw someone worth believing in. A man, who though physically broken, still stood defiant and hopeful. I see hints of that same man now, hidden beneath of the broken layers. I think he deserves a shot at living. Don't you?"

His mouth felt dry. It took him a couple of attempts, but on the third, when he opened his mouth, words came out. "Anderson, I..." This couldn't simple. Couldn't be easy. Couldn't be right. Who was he to deserve this, whatever it may be? "You know what I've done..."

"I do," he said. "What I'm offering won't erase that. Nothing will. It'll be there, with you, with them, with everyone. Nothing will ease that burden. It weighs as it should." He leaned forward. "But does that mean you shouldn't work to right your wrongs?"

Beneath the table, Shepard clenched his. If only brief, his anger flared. "But I tried! I tried so damn hard, and I still failed! My friends, my-" His voice cracked. "... my family... they all still died!"

Anderson didn't flinch in face of it. He drew closer instead, standing and moving to Shepard's side, gripping his shoulders and kneeling before him. "Look at me, son!" Shepard didn't. "Look at me!"

He winced, but looked at Anderson, bearing witness to a man both desperate and determined.

"Just because you failed doesn't mean you were wrong! Just because you've lost doesn't mean you stop! That's life! It's nasty, it's unfair, and sometimes, good people die. It doesn't mean we stop fighting for what's right! If we do, what becomes of those we lost? What becomes of those we can yet save!?"

Anderson's words weren't from a man looking to take advantage of his grief like The Colonel. His words weren't from a man looking to take advantage of his desperation like Frank. His words were born from his heart, his soul, drawn from a reservoir in which one could only nurture through a life well lived, spoken not to control, but to teach, to inspire. Shepard wasn't just hearing him - he was listening, taken aback by the care he showed, and touched because it was there at all.

Listening to his words, Shepard bowed his head. Anderson released his grip, but continued kneeling before him.

"I won't force you, Shepard... This decision, what I'm asking, it has to be something you want. That you believe in." He paused, if but for a single, fleeting second. "Do you?"

Sitting there, Shepard felt as though he was going through an old slideshow, looking through moments of his life with a clarity not even afforded to him in his dreams. The most important moments of his life, from the time Frank put a gun in his hand to the moment he decided to gun down a village, and everything in-between. He saw the good, the bad, and the ugly. But more important than any of that, he saw himself when he was happiest, sitting in a chair and bantering with his squad, proud of the good they had done, and the good they'd do.

They weren't there to make their dreams a reality...  
But he was.

He knew his answer.

He looked back up at Anderson, suddenly teary-eyed. "I do, sir."

Anderson smiled, genuine and heartfelt, hugging Shepard to him. Surprisingly, Shepard hugged him back. When he finally pulled back and stood, he pretended to straighten his collar while Shepard wiped his eyes.

"The path that lays before you is hard, Shepard. Harder than you've ever known before. It'll never be easy, but nothing worthwhile in this life ever is. But I believe you can do it... and I hope you do as well." He paused, glancing toward the glass. No doubt King was behind it, foaming at the mouth. "I'll pull some strings, take care of what I need to get you out of here... but Shepard."

"This won't be the last time we see each other - far from it." Once more, he extended a hand, still smiling. "I look forward to working with you."

This time, he didn't hesitate, returning his smile with one of his own, his first in what felt like years. "I won't let you down, sir."

Not now, not ever.

* * *

How Anderson had managed to get him free that same day, Shepard didn't know, but he wasn't sad to see King and his cell go, not that the former wasn't cursing up a storm the entire time.

When he first stepped into the sunlight, the first time in what felt like months, he felt good, renewed.  
He wasn't who he was before, nor would he ever be. The bright-eyed Shepard of the past was gone, dying on Akuze with the rest of his family. The man who followed, Hades, another, darker side of him, wasn't there either. He still sat in his cell, cursing the world and himself right along with King. But who he was then, not even he knew. Not a blank slate, but someone new, someone who grew from the soil of who he was before, through the cracks of the concrete that made up the man he was just a few hours prior.

He wasn't done healing - not anywhere close. Maybe he never would be.   
But he was... determined. Maybe even a little bit excited.

But that was two years ago. Now, as he stood before a crowd of Alliance officials on Arcturus Station, a lone recruit of thirty-two to complete his final test and be awarded his N7 insignia, Shepard felt as though he had taken his first real steps down his new path. Of who is he, of the man that he's going to become. And when they erupted in cheers, he zeroed in on the man who believed in him when he didn't even believe in himself, his smile just as genuine as the day he visited him in jail. His heart swelled at the sight. And behind them all, clear as day despite no lights on them were his family: Chuck, Lucy, Kim, Triss, Teddy, and Jessica. They looked at him and smiled, with pride, with love. He blinked hard at the sight of them, and when he opened his eyes again, they were gone.

_You...-_

He smiled, no, he grinned, and looked skyward, past the crowd, past the cameras, and toward the galaxy that laid beyond.

This wasn't the end, but a new beginning.  
And he was determined to make it better than the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with the end of this chapter, we enter Mass Effect proper. I hope y'all enjoyed my take on Shepard's life before the events of the trilogy.
> 
> I always played Shepard as an Earthborn/Sole Survivor, but my head canon has always been a mix of all three psychological profiles. It lends itself better to how I play and envision him, a man trying to redeem himself and do better for his team/the people he loves.
> 
> But anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter! Comments are always appreciated. Expect another chapter sometime next week.


	11. Eden Prime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes left and Shepard has a vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out, and in advance. This pandemic has everything running wild, so I won't be able to post as much as I want to, or even write as much as I want to.
> 
> That said, chapter eleven is here. As always, comments are greatly appreciated. I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

There were moments in a battle when it seemed to John as if time actually slowed down. A split-second in which he saw someone pulling out a knife instead of credits back when he dealt Red Sand, knew that he was about to get cut, but could never move his body fast enough to avoid it. 

It had become more prominent after his gene-therapy, something he could actively do if his adrenaline was pumping enough, and all the right conditions had been met. Sometimes he could even react to it.  
But saving Jenkins? There was nothing he could do about that.

He couldn't have suspected Geth - none of them did. They had all been cautious, keeping their heads on a swivel, but somehow it didn't matter. Flying Turrets came from around the corner; Shepard saw them and shouted for Jenkins to dive behind cover, storming forward. 

Jenkins couldn't even take a step before they cut him down faster than he could register the warning.

This wasn't the first mission that he's lead since joining with Anderson. Over the last year, since earning his N7 designation, he's led countless others. It was how he and Kaidan met, how the Alliance had seen fit to grant Anderson permission in bringing him aboard the Normandy. But it was the first in which he lost a man.

There was nothing more he could've done to stop it, and he knew that, repeating it as he gunned down the drones. But when he and Kaidan reached the crest of a hill and spotted a lone soldier in white and red armor engaging Geth alone, he pushed himself to move faster and act first.

His trusted Lancer is traded for an Avenger sniper, kneeling in the grass; he aimed at the furthest Trooper, lining the center of his scope with its eye, and pulled the trigger. "Alenko, Overload the first."

The final Trooper spat out sparks as its shields dropped, letting Shepard finish it with a shot to its body. He rose to his feet, trading in his overheated sniper for his Lancer. "Let's see if they needs any help."

They climbed down the hill and jogged over to them. As they got closer, their visor cleared, revealing fatigue and a grateful, albeit pained smile. "Thanks for the save. Gunner Chief Ashley Williams of the 212. You the one in charge here, sir?"

He nodded, "Commander Shepard, Alliance N7," he nodded toward Kaidan," Lieutenant Alenko. Are you wounded, Williams?"

"A few scrapes and burns," she admitted. "The others weren't so lucky..." She started pacing back and forth, hands shaking. "We were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit. We tried to get a distress call off, but they cut off our communications. I've been fighting for my life ever since."

He watched her, empathetic. She was shaken up, obviously, and for good reason. "Where's the rest of your squad?"

"We tried to double back for the beacon, but walked into an ambush. I don't think any of the others..." She gathered herself. "I think I'm the only one left."

Hearing that, Shepard felt something inside him stir, a wound that had been there long before Jenkins fell. He didn't have anyone back then to tell him otherwise, but he was there right then, for her. "You didn't do anything wrong, Williams, and it isn't your fault. Nobody could've expected whatever the hell these things are."

"Yes, sir." She seemed to relax marginally hearing that. "We held our position as long as we could, until the Geth overwhelmed us."

"The Geth haven't been seen outside the veil in nearly two-hundred years," Kaidan stated, bewildered. "Why are they here now?"

"The Beacon," Shepard guessed. "Williams, can you lead us to it? We could use your help."

"Aye aye, sir. It's time for some payback."

* * *

The fight through Eden Prime was harder than he thought it'd be. From Geth not seen in the last two-hundred years to humans corrupted by them, it was only because of their own adaptability and fierceness that they managed to punch through. He and Kaidan had always been a good team, sometimes able to do what the other was thinking without so much as a breathe of a word between them. And Ashley? She was still a good soldier even without their dynamic, a terror that tore across the battlefield with a vengeance. 

They saved people when they could and pushed on all the while, so imagine their shock when they reached the port, stumbling upon the body of the Nihlus.

"Shit," Shepard said, watching Kaidan briefly kneel to check for life, shaking his head seconds after. "Did the Geth get him?"

"If they did, it wasn't with one of their own weapons. This isn't a plasma burn, sir."

"Shit," he repeated, glancing back at Ashley. "And the beacon?"

"Not here," she said, "it must've been moved, either by the scientist or by the Geth."

"Shit," he repeated, a third and final time. "Do you have an idea on-"

A sound cut him off - a knock against the crates off to the right. He whipped out a Predator immediately, Kaidan and Ashley quickly following suit. "You've got five seconds to show yourself before we open fire. One-"

"Wait," a voice called, one man stepping forward with hands raised. "Wait! Don't shoot! I'm one of you! I'm... human!"

"Sneaking up on us like that nearly got you killed," Shepard stated.

"I-I'm sorry. I was hiding. From those creatures."

Reasonable. Shepard holstered his weapon as the man continued, "My name"s Powell. I saw what happened to the Turian. The other one shot him."

Other one? "I need to know how Nihlus died, Powell. Tell me everything that happened."

It was a short story that left him with more questions than answers, but it gave him a direction to go in, put more weapons into his pockets, and told him where the beacon was.

Getting to it though was even more stressful than he had thought it'd be. By the time they fought across the cargo train and rode it the other platform, Nihlus' killer was long gone, and left behind a small army of Geth, Husk, and bombs in their place. Upon detecting them, Shepard glanced back at Kaidan and Kaidan nodded in response, wordlessly moving to disarm the first while Shepard started to make his way up the steps to the next level.

"Keep the Geth off Alenko, Williams." The order came as he reached the next level, opening into an exposed Geth while the others ducked into cover. "And I'll try to keep them off you."

He pushed forward, staying aggressive despite the fact that he was outnumbered five to one. He lobbed a grenade before ducking back into cover, arcing it so that it landed perfectly at the feet of those in cover, detonating it for explosive results. At the same time, those not caught by the grenade returned fire, spraying at his cover. He waited for a break in their assault, a lapse that only a weapon cooldown would bring, switching to his shotgun.

The moment it came, he tore out of cover, storming forward. It takes but a few seconds to close the distance between him and the cover they ducked behind. It takes him even less to vault over it, kicking them away and opening into them with his Executioner, rending apart machine and flesh both. At the same time, he calls into his comms. "How many more, Lieutenant?" 

"Finishing up the last one now, sir. All hostiles here are down, and we're about to converge on your position."

"Roger that." Another trigger pull and another death trooper, sending it crashing to the ground. He traded his shotgun for his Lancer, continuing. "I'm reading more further in. We'll hit them together."

He waited for them just outside the ramp leading down to the lower level. He couldn't see much through the quick glances he took, but he knew they were waiting on them, and probably had all their guns trained on the entrance. As Kaidan and Ashley approached, he motioned for them to pull up beside him, and told them as much after they did.

"It'll be heavy fire," he said, "and the first person in will be taking most of it. Knowing that, I'll initiate. I need you two to take them out while they're focused on me."

"Shepard-"

"It's not up for discussion, Lieutenant. My shields are better, and if there's risk to be had, I'm taking it."

The first part wasn't completely truthful, but Kaidan seemed to accept it nonetheless, though he still seemed worried. Ashley only nodded, looking at him with newfound respect. "On your mark, sir."

"Right," he said, preparing himself. His heart pounded in his ears, but after taking a few deep breathes and focusing on his adrenaline rush, it faded, and he knew exactly what he had to do. "Go!"

He turned the corner and rushed down the ramp, Lancer leveled and trained onto the closest hostile. As expected, an ambush had been waiting for them - half a dozen Geth forming a semi-circle, all aiming at the ramp, and firing the moment they saw him. His shields at the first barrage, but only just. He returned fire all the while, continuing until he had enough momentum to launch him off the ramp and to the ground below, landing in a roll that carried him behind cover, bringing the Geth's attention with him.

It was the opening Kaidan and Ashely needed, stepping onto the ramp and opening fire, catching them unaware. They dropped more than half before the final two readjusted. Shepard was faster, standing up before his shields had fully recovered and gunning them down, quick and precise.

"All hostiles down," Kaidan called.

"Good work," Shepard said, stepping from behind cover. He stumbled as he did, a sudden pain on his sternum as his adrenaline faded. He looked down, taking note of burns against his armor. It had just held against the gunfire that made it past his shields. "The beacon?"

"It's here," Ashley confirmed, eyeballing it. "It wasn't glowing like this before though... Maybe the Geth activated it?"

"Then we better get it back to Council space. Alenko, radio the Normandy."

"Sir."

Shepard halfway listened as Kaidan radioed the Normandy, palming his armor burn and thinking about the mission, about Nihlus. A Council Spectre had been killed - murdered by a Turian named Saren, Eden Prime had been ravaged, and the Geth were apparent enemies. A lot had gone wrong. He knew that whatever awaited them next would be just as ugly, and that was without thinking about the fallout he expected with the Council.

He closed his eyes, a part of him wishing that he could leave it to Anderson, and head elsewhere away from the storm on the horizon.

"Shit-"

He opened his eyes and looked past Kaidan toward Ashley, seemingly struggling against the beacon as it pulled her toward it. Before he knew it, he was rushing forward, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her back - only it didn't work. Whatever held her was too strong. He gritted his teeth, and with a quick show of strength, threw her back toward Kaidan, trading places as the beacon took hold of him.

It pulled him forward and lifted him - he heard shouting, both behind him and in his head. He saw flashes, images, too much to understand, and too fast to grasp. Pressure built behind his eyes, and he was sure he tasted blood, muscles taut to the point of pain. Then the beacon erupted, and all he saw was black.


	12. Gunfights in The Wards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and crew go hunting for evidence against Saren.

Silence permeates the darkness that surrounded him, undercut only by the faintest of sounds, so low that Shepard easily could've mistaken it for just his imagination. He was aware of people around him. He knew that he should get up too, but he felt so tired. He deserved a rest, even if just for a few more minutes.

But Kaidan must've thought otherwise. "Approaching the L-Z, Commander."

The Lieutenant's voice stirs Shepard to consciousness. Views of the Citadel come into focus, witnessed from the backseat of the hovercar that he flew in. Beside him, someone laughed - Ashley Williams, he remembered. Their newest recruit aboard the Normandy.

"C'mon, Leuitenant. We're not on a mission. Calling a landing pad an L-Z seems a bit much, right, Commander?" He didn't respond. "Commander?"

Shepard didn't hear her. She reached out, setting a hand on his shoulder. "You okay," She quietly asked, concern in her voice.

Ever since the Prothean Beacon, she had taken to keeping an eye on him. Asking him how he was doing, trying to banter while they ate in the mess hall. Shepard knew it was concern born from guilt. It had been him who pulled her away from it, and him who had seen.. whatever it was that he saw. Even then, days later, he had a hard time making sense of exactly what he witnessed, and it showed.

But right then, that was the least of their worries.

"I'm fine, Williams." Shepard sat up straighter, hoping he looked more alert than he felt. "Garrus is near here?"

"According to Harkin," Kaidan said. "Should be in the clinic just ahead."

As Kaidan brought them to the landing pad, Shepard recounted their task. The Council had dismissed their claims of Saren's betrayal, leaving them in a hunt for evidence to prove just that. Their best and only shot was a Turian named Garrus Vakarian, and after a few hours of looking, they finally had a lead on where he was.

The doors slid open and Shepard stepped out, looking around. He could hear music from the clubs in the distance. Beside him, Kaidan made an appreciative noise at the view. "Don't think I'll ever get used to how beautiful the Citadel looks."

"Plenty of time to try after we find Garrus," Shepard said. "C'mon."

They walked toward the clinic just a few yards away. There's a bit of lag between the door registering their presence and opening. When it does, it reveals a problematic scene. Garrus, crouching along the walls, and four mercenaries threatening the doctor. Despite his weariness, Shepard has his pistol out in a second. One of the mercs is just as fast, grabbing the doctor and leveling his gun.

"Let her go," Shepard demanded.

At the same time, Garrus turned the corner and fired. The merc collapsed, the doctor screamed, and all hell broke loose.

Kaidan flicks his wrist, loosening a small biotic push that sends the doctor behind cover. At the same time, Garrus and Ashley both open up onto the mercs, catching one before he's able to duck into cover. Shepard's right behind them, firing his pistol with pinpoint accuracy, taking down the remaining two in their attempts to return fire.

Ashley holstered her pistol. "Clear, Commander."

Garrus looked proud as he holstered his weapon. "Perfect timing, Shepard. Gave me a clear shot of that bastard."

Shepard scowled. "The hell were you thinking? You could've hit the hostage!"

"There wasn't time to think! I just reacted! I didn't mean to-" Garrus paused. "Doctor Michel, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm okay. Thanks to you. All of you."

"I know those men just threatened you," Shepard said, "but if you tell us who they work for, we can protect you."

"They work for Fist," Michel answered. "They wanted to shut me up, keep me from telling Garrus about the Quarian."

"Quarian?"

Garrus made a noise, like something just dawned on him. "Dr. Michel, tell us what happened."

It's a short story made even shorter as Garrus connected the dots aloud. Fist was working for Saren, looking to kill the Quarian who had evidence proving Saren was a traitor. Suddenly, what was a near impossible task became very achievable.

"Let's go," Shepard ordered. "It's time we paid Fist a visit."

"Wait," Garrus said. "This is your show, Shepard. But I want to bring Saren down just as much as you do. I'm coming with you!"

Shepard squinted. "You're a turian. Why do you want to bring one of your own down?"

"I couldn't find the proof in my investigation, but I knew what was really going on. Saren's a traitor to the Council, and a disgrace to my people!"

Shepard stared at Garrus, surprised. He hadn't expected the Turian to be so earnest. But after a few seconds, he nodded. "Williams."

"Sir?"

"Head back to Ambassador Udina's office," Shepard ordered. "Tell Anderson and him what's going on. If something happens to us, it's best they know why."

"I-" She caught herself. "Sir."

As she left, Shepard smiled at Garrus. "Welcome aboard, Vakarian."

Garrus flexed his mandibles - Shepard assumed it was his version of a smile. "You know, we aren't the only one's after Fist. The Shadow Broker hired a krogan bounty hunter named Wrex to take him out."

"The one we saw in the bar," Kaidan said behind him.

"There's no time," Shepard said. "The longer we take, the less likely we'll find the Quarian alive. C'mon."

It didn't take them long to return to Chora's Den, but upon stepping onto the walkway leading to it, Shepard noticed right away that something was off. "It's... quiet."

"They must be expecting us," Garrus said, drawing his rifle.

"Then we fight our way through," Shepard said, taking up a spot beside the entrance. "I'll take point. Alenko, do what you do best."

"Aye aye, sir."

Shepard drew his gun, sucking in a breathe. He wondered just how many people he was about to kill.

When the exhale came, Shepard moved, and the others followed. He's greeted by a rain of bullets, his shields immediately sending out alerts as he's caught from almost all sides. He darts into cover, opening fire while he does. Kaidan sends someone flying as he does and Garrus takes out the hostile standing on top of the bar. Thankfully, there's no civilians to worry about, but the enemies show no sign of letting up.

Shepard needs to even the odds. He draws a grenade from his holster and launches it to the other side of the bar. It erupts, sending up bodies and letting him push out of cover, gunning down those left stunned. But just as he's rounding the bar, a beast of a man barrels into him, sending him flying into a wall. He lands hard, his gun careening across the floor.

"Shepard, watch out!" Garrus cried behind him.

He looked up, seeing not a man, but a Krogan stomping toward him. But before he gets close, his feet leaves to the ground, floating. Shepard doesn't question it, pulling free his shotgun, and opening up into him instead. It's not until he sees the flicker of blue fade that he realizes Kaidan had lifted him with his biotics, letting the Krogan land in a heap on the ground, dead.

Kaidan walked up to him, offering one hand, and thumbing away a bloody nose with the other. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Shepard said. "Nice save."

"Just a part of the job."

"Fist should be in the back," said Garrus as he walked over.

"Then that's where we're heading."

Shepard led them toward the back, ignoring the pain in his abdomen. Behind the next door were two men - workers, he realized, after seeing how poorly they held the guns now aimed at Shepard and his crew. "Stay back," one ordered.

Shepard sighed. "This would be a good time to find somewhere else to work."

The workers glanced at each other, but lowered their weapons. "Yeah, uh, I never liked Fist much anyways." One muttered before both left.

Garrus blinked. "I'd have never thought of that..."

"Shooting people isn't always the answer," Kaidan responded.

They walked deeper into the club until after crossing one last door, they were greeted with the sight of turrets, and gunfire. Shepard quickly ducked back into cover. "Are you serious?!"

More than a little annoyed, Shepard rounded the corner during a break in fire, Kaidan and Alenko following close behind. Both of them took down the turrets while Shepard stormed the man ducking behind corner, launching himself over it, and bringing his gauntlet down to his face hard enough to break his nose. He cried out as blood shot everywhere, collapsing onto the ground. "D-Don't kill me," he cried. "I surrender!"

Shepard drew his pistol, aiming it at him. "Tell me where the Quarian is, and I won't have to shoot you in the kneecaps."

"She's not here! I don't know where she is, that's the truth!"

"Alenko, put a bullet in him. Maybe he'll start talking then."

"W-Wait! I don't know where she is, but I know where she'll be!"

After hearing what Fist had to say, it took more than he'd have thought to keep himself from pulling the trigger. In the end, Shepard only scowled and holstered his weapon. "If I see you again, you're dead."

"Don't worry," Fist muttered, limping through a backdoor. "You'll never see me again."

Shepard watched him leave before turning to the others. "We need to find the Quarian. Now."

But leftover thugs made it impossible to do so, and as confident as Shepard was in their ability to take them down with, he was certain that time wasn't on their side. He shouts for Kaidan and Garrus to cover him, braving the fire and sprinting out the door. He pushes past the pain and fatigue, across the walkway and into where they first arrived. He bounds up the steps and through a door leading into a back alley, crossing the threshold just in time to hear an explosion erupt, and shooting follow.

Shepard sees someone duck behind a container and fighters converge on them. He waste no time in taking aim once more, triggering his Overkill as he opened fire. He gunned down three before the remaining two returned fire, forcing him into cover. He's waiting for a break to cooldown their weapons when suddenly, a disk came latching onto the wall beside him. His eyes widen in recognition and in a burst a speed, he throws himself over the cover, seconds before it erupts. It sends him flying through the air, crashing to the ground in front of the stairs. His shields took the brunt of it and his armor catches enough to spare him unconsciousness, but he struggles to move, gasping for the breathe that was knocked out of him.

"There," shouted a voice across from him. "Kill 'im now!"

He braced himself for gunfire, but the two shots that rang out come nowhere close. He opened his eyes, watching as a lone figure walked from behind cover, smoke coming from the barrel of their pistol, and watching him as they approached.

"If not for the fact that they were trying to kill you, I'd think you were working for that bosh'tet, Fist."

Dressed in an intricate and purple full body suit, Shepard couldn't see anything beyond the glow of two eyes hidden behind a smoky visor. But when she spoke, he could hear the smile in her voice, as small as it was. "Thanks for the help," she said, offering him a hand. "Are you alright?"

"I am now," he said, standing with her aid. A glance to the side showed him the two mercs she killed to save his life. "Thanks for the save. Were you hurt at all?"

"I know how to take care of myself," she answered. "Not that I don't appreciate the help. Who are you?"

"I'm-"

"Shepard," Kaidan shouted, cutting him off. Behind him, Kaidan and Garrus bounded down the stairs. "What happened? Are you alright? Is that the Quarian?"

Shepard feels the Quarian grow tense behind him, staring at his team warily. He lifts a hand, both to quiet Kaidan, and reassure her. "My name is Shepard, with the Alliance. I'm looking for evidence to prove that Saren Arterius is a traitor."

The Quarian relaxes hearing that, nodding her head. "Then I have a chance to repay you for your help, but not here. We need to go someplace safe."

"The ambassador's office," Kaidan suggested. "He'll want to hear this anyways."

"Good idea. Let's go."

Shepard limped toward the exit, Kaidan and Garrus bringing up the rear, and the Quarian close by his side. And for some reason, Shepard couldn't help but think that in finding her, things were about to take a turn for the better.


End file.
